JUST PATTY
JEAN WEBSTER
Just Patty
I want a new room-mate !"
Just Patty
By
Jean Webster
Author of "When Patty Went to College," "Jerry
Junior," "Much Ado About Peter," etc.
Illustrated by
C. M. Relyea
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publ ishers
Copyright, 1911, by
THE CENTURY Co.
Copyright, 1911, by THE
CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY
Published, October, zgu
MADE AT INNISFREE
912973
Contents
PACK
I REFORM 3
ii THE ROMANTIC HISTORY OF CUTHBERT ST.
JOHN 33
in THE VIRGIL STRIKE 65
iv THE THIRD MAN FROM THE END . . . .99
v THE FLANNIGAN HONEYMOON 119
vi THE SILVER BUCKLES 149
vn "UNCLE BOBBY" 181
vin THE SOCIETY OF ASSOCIATED SIRENS . . . 199
ix THE REFORMATION OF KID McCoY .... 229
x ONIONS AND ORCHIDS 247
xi THE LEMON PIE AND THE MONKEY-WRENCH 273
xn THE GYPSY TRAIL ,« . . 309
I
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Just Patty
Reform
T 'S a shame ! " said Priscilla.
" It 's an outrage ! " said
Conny.
" It 's an insult ! " said Patty.
" To separate us now after we Ve been
together three years — "
" And it is n't as though we were awfully
bad last yean Lots of girls had more de-
merits."
" Only our badness was sort of conspicu-
ous," Patty admitted.
" But we were 'very good the last three
weeks," reminded Conny.
" And you should see my new room-
mate ! " wailed Priscilla.
" She can't be any worse than Irene Mc-
Cullough."
"She is! — Her father's a missionary,
and she was brought up in China. Her name
3
just Patty
is Keren-happuch Hcrsey, after Job's young-
est daughter. And she does n't think it 's
funny!"
" Irene," said Conny gloomily, " gained
twenty pounds through the summer. She
weighs — "
" But you should see mine 1 " cried Patty,
in exasperation. " Her name is Mae Mer-
telle Van Arsdale."
" Keren studies every second; and expects
me to walk on tiptoe so she can concen-
trate."
"You should hear, Mae Mertelle talkl
She said her father was a financier, and
wanted to know what mine was. I told her
he was a reform judge, and that he spent his
time putting financiers in prison. She says
I 'm an impertinent child," Patty grinned
feebly.
" How old is she?"
" She 's nineteen, and has been proposed
to twice."
" Mercy! Whatever made her choose St.
Ursula's?"
" Her father and mother ran away and
4
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got married when they were nineteen, and
they 're afraid she inherited the tendency.
So they picked out a good, strict, church
school. Mae does n't know how she 's ever
going to fix her hair without a maid. She 's
awfully superstitious about moonstones. She
never wears anything but silk stockings and
she can't stand hash. I '11 have to teach her
how to make a bed. She always crosses on
the White Star Line."
Patty scattered these details at random.
The others listened sympathetically, and
added a few of their own troubles.
" Irene weighs a hundred and fifty-nine
pounds and six ounces, not counting her
clothes," said Conny. " She brought two
trunks loaded with candy. She has it hid-
den all over the room. The last sound I hear
at night, is Irene crunching chocolates — and
the first sound in the morning. She never
says anything; she simply chews. It's like
rooming with a cow. And I have a sweet
collection of neighbors ! Kid McCoy 's
across the hall, and she makes more noise
than half-a-dozen cowboys. There 's a new
5
Just Patty
French girl next door — you know, the pretty
little one with the two black braids."
" She looks rather desirable," said Patty.
" She might be if she could talk, but she
only knows about fifty words. Harriet Glad-
den 's rooming with her, as limp and mourn-
ful as an oyster, and Evalina Smith 's at the
end of the corridor. You know what a per-
fect idiot Evalina is."
" Oh, it 's beastly! " they agreed.
" Lordy 's to blame," said Conny. " The
Dowager never would have separated us if
she had n't interfered."
"And I've got her!" wailed Patty.
' You two have Mam'selle and Waddams,
and they're nice, sweet, unsuspicious lambs;
but the girls in the East Wing simply can't
sneeze but Lordy — "
"Sh!" Conny warned. "Here she
comes."
The Latin teacher, in passing, paused on
the threshold. Conny disentangled herself
from the mixture of clothes and books and
sofa cushions that littered the bed, and po-
litely rose to her feet. Patty slid down from
6
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the white iron foot-rail, and Priscilla de-
scended from the top of the trunk.
" Ladies don't perch about on the furni-
ture."
" No, Miss Lord," they murmured in uni-
son, gazing back from three pairs of wide,
uplifted eyes. They knew, from gleeful past
experience, that nothing so annoyed her as
smiling acquiescence.
Miss Lord's eyes critically studied the
room. Patty was still in traveling dress.
" Put on your uniform, Patty, and finish
unpacking. The trunks go down to-morrow
morning."
" Yes, Miss Lord."
" Priscilla and Constance, why are n't you
out of doors with the other girls, enjoying
this beautiful autumn weather?"
" But we have n't seen Patty for such a
long time, and now that we are separated — "
commenced Conny, with a pathetic droop of
her mouth.
" I trust that your lessons will benefit by the
change. You, Patty and Priscilla, are going
to college, and should realize the necessity
Just Patty
of being prepared. Upon the thorough
foundation that you lay here depends your
success for the next four years — for your
whole lives, one might say. Patty is weak
in mathematics and Priscilla in Latin. Con-
stance could improve her French. Let us
see what you can do when you really try."
She divided a curt nod between the three
and withdrew.
" We are happy in our work and we dearly
love our teachers," chanted Patty, with iron-
ical emphasis, as she rummaged- out a blue
skirt and middy blouse with " St. U." in gold
upon the sleeve.
While she was dressing, Priscilla and
Conny set about transferring the contents of
her trunk to her bureau, in whatever order
the articles presented themselves — but with
a carefully folded top layer. The over-
worked young teacher, who performed the
ungrateful task of inspecting sixty-four bu-
reaus and sixty-four closets every Saturday
morning, was happily of an unsuspicious na-
ture. She did not penetrate below the crust
8
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" Lordy need n't make such a fuss over my
standing," said Priscilla, frowning over an
armful of clothes. " I passed everything ex-
cept Latin."
" Take care, Pris ! You 're walking on
my new dancing dress," cried Patty, as her
head emerged from the neck of the blouse.
Priscilla automatically stepped off a mass
of blue chiffon, and resumed her plaint.
" If they think sticking me in with Job's
youngest daughter is going to improve my
prose composition — "
" I simply can't study till they take Irene
McCullough out of my room," Conny echoed.
" She 's just like a lump of sticky dough."
' Wait till you get acquainted with Mae
Mertelle ! " Patty sat on the floor in the
midst of the chaos, and gazed up at the other
two with wide, solemn eyes. " She brought
five evening gowns cut low, and all her shoes
have French heels. And she laces — my
dears! She just holds in her breath and
pulls. But that is n't the worst." She low-
ered her voice to a confidential whisper..
9
Just Patty
" She 's got some red stuff in a bottle. She
says it 's for her finger nails, but I saw her
putting it on her face."
" Oh! — not really? " in a horrified whis-
per from Conny and Priscilla.
Patty shut her lips and nodded.
" Is n't it dreadful?"
" Awful! " Conny shuddered.
"I say, let's mutiny!" cried Priscilla.
" Let 's make the Dowager give us back our
old rooms in Paradise Alley."
" But how?" inquired Patty, two parallel
wrinkles appearing on her forehead.
1 Tell her that unless she does, we won't
stay."
"That would be sensible! " Patty jeered.
" She 'd ring the bell and order Martin to
hitch up the hearse and drive us to the sta-
tion for the six-thirty train. I should think
you 'd know by this time that you can't bluff
the Dowager."
" There 's no use threatening," Conny
agreed. ' We must appeal to her feeling of
— of—"
" Affection," said Patty.
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Conny stretched out a hand and brought
her up standing.
" Come on, Patty, you 're good at talking.
We '11 go down now while our courage is up.
— Are your hands clean?"
The three staunchly approached the door
of Mrs. Trent's private study.
" I '11 use diplomacy," Patty whispered, as
she turned the knob in response to the sum-
mons from within. " You people nod your
heads at everything I say."
Patty did use all the diplomacy at her com-
mand. Having dwelt touchingly upon their
long friendship, and their sorrow at being
separated, she passed lightly to the matter of
their new room-mates.
" They are doubtless very nice girls," she
ended politely, " only, you see, Mrs. Trent,
they don't match us; and it is extremely hard
to concentrate one's mind upon lessons, un-
less one has a congenial room-mate."
Patty's steady, serious gaze suggested that
lessons were the end of her existence. A
brief smile flitted over the Dowager's face,
but the next instant she was grave again.
II
Just Patty
" It is very necessary that we study this
year," Patty added. " Priscilla and I are
going to college, and we realize the necessity
of being prepared. Upon the thorough
foundation that we lay here, depends our suc-
cess for the next four years — for our whole
lives you might say."
Conny jogged her elbow warningly. It
was too patently a crib from Miss Lord.
" And besides," Patty added hastily, " all
my things are blue, and Mae has a purple
screen and a yellow sofa cushion."
' That is awkward," the Dowager admit-
ted.
" We are used to living in Paradise Al —
I mean, the West Wing — and we shall —
er — miss the sunsets."
The Dowager allowed an anxious silence
to follow, while she thoughtfully tapped the
desk with her lorgnettes. The three studied
her face with speculative eyes. It was a
mask they could not penetrate.
' The present arrangement is more or less
temporary," she commenced in equable tones-
12
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41 1 may find it expedient to make some
changes, and I may not. We have an un-
usual number of new girls this year; and in-
stead of putting them together, it has seemed
wisest to mix them with the old girls. You
three have been with us a long time. You
know the traditions of the school. There-
fore— " The Dowager smiled, a smile par-
tially tinged with amusement — " I am send-
ing you as missionaries among the new-
comers. I wish you to make your influence
felt."
Patty straightened her back and stared.
"Our influence?"
" Your new room-mate," Mrs. Trent con-
tinued imperturbably, " is too grown-up for,
her years. She has lived in fashionable ho-
tels, and under such conditions, it is inevita-
ble that a girl should become somewhat af-
fected. See if you cannot arouse in Mae an
interest in girlish sports.
" And you, Constance, are rooming with
Irene McCullough. She is, as you know, an
only child, and I fear has been a trifle spoiled.
13
Just Patty
It would please me if you could waken her to
a higher regard for the spiritual side of life,
and less care for material things."
"I — I '11 try," Conny stammered, dazed
at so suddenly finding herself cast in the un-
familiar role of moral reformer.
" And you have next to you the little
French girl, Aurelie Deraismes. I should be
pleased, Constance, if you would assume an
oversight of her school career. She can help
you to a more idiomatic knowledge of French
— and you can do the same for her in Eng-
lish.
" You, Priscilla, are rooming with — "
She adjusted her lorgnettes and consulted a
large chart. — " Ah, yes, Keren Hersey, a
very unusual girl. You two will find many
subjects of mutual interest. The daughter
of a naval officer should have much in com-
mon with the daughter of a missionary.
Keren bids fair to become an earnest student
— almost, if such a thing were possible, too
earnest. She has never had any girl compan-
ions, and knows nothing of the give and take
of school life. She can teach you, Priscilla,
14
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to be more studious, and you can teach her
to be more, shall I say, flexible? "
" Yes, Mrs. Trent," Priscilla murmured.
" And so," the Dowager finished, " I am
sending you out in my place, as moral reform-
ers. I want the older girls to set an example
to the newcomers. I wish to have the real
government of the school a strong, healthy
Public Opinion. You three exert a great deal
of influence. See what you can do in the di-
rections I have indicated — and in others that
may occur to you as you mix with your com-
panions. I have watched you carefully for
three years, and in your fundamental good
sense, I have the greatest confidence."
She nodded dismissal, and the three found
themselves in the hall again. They looked at
one another for a moment of blank silence.
" Moral reformers ! " Conny gasped.
" I see through the Dowager," said Patty.
" She thinks she 's found a new method of
managing us."
" But I don't see that we 're getting back
to Paradise Alley," Priscilla complained.
Patty's eyes suddenly brightened. She
15
Just Patty
seized them each by an elbow and shoved
them into the empty schoolroom.
"We'll do it!"
" Do what? " asked Conny.
" Pitch right in and reform the school.
If we just keep at it — steady — you '11 see !
We '11 be back in Paradise Alley at the end
of two weeks."
"Urn," said Priscilla, thoughtfully. "I
believe we might."
' We '11 commence with Irene," said
Conny, her mind eagerly jumping to details,
41 and make her lose that twenty pounds.
That 's what the Dowager meant when she
said she wanted her less material."
" We '11 have her thin in no time," Patty
nodded energetically. " And we '11 give Mae
Mertelle a dose of bubbling girlishness."
" And Keren," interposed Priscilla, " we '11
teach her to become frivolous and neglect her
lessons."
" But we won't just confine ourselves to
those three," said Conny. " The Dowager
said to make our influence felt over the whole
school."
16
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" Oh, yes ! " Patty agreed, rising to en-
thusiasm as she called the school roll. " Kid
McCoy uses too much slang. We '11 teach
her manners. Rosalie does n't like to study.
We '11 pour her full of algebra and Latin.
Harriet Gladden 's a jelly fish, Mary Das-
kam 's an awful little liar, Evalina Smith 's
a silly goose, Nancy Lee 's a telltale — "
" When you stop to think about it, there 's
something the matter with everybody," said
Conny.
" Except us," amended Priscilla.
" Y — yes," Patty agreed in thoughtful re-
trospection, " I can't think of a thing the mat-
ter with us — I don't wonder they chose us
to head the reform 1 "
Conny slid to her feet, a bundle of en-
ergy.
" Come on ! We '11 join our little play-
mates and begin the good work — Hooray
for the great Reform Party! "
They scrambled out of the open window,
in a fashion foreign to the dictates of Thurs-
day evening manner class. Crowds of girls
in blue middy blouses were gathered in
17
Just Patty
groups about the recreation ground. The
three paused to reconnoiter.
" There 's Irene, still chewing." Conny
nodded toward a comfortable bench set in the
shade by the tennis courts.
" Let 's have a circus," Patty proposed.
" We '11 make Irene and Mae Mertelle roll
hoops around the oval. That will kill 'em
both with one stone — Irene will get thin,
and Mae Mertelle girlish."
Hoop-rolling was a speciality of St. Ur-
sula's. The gymnasium instructor believed
in teaching girls to run. Eleven times around
the oval constituted a mile, and a mile of
hoop-rolling freed one for the day from
dumb-bells and Indian clubs. The three
dived into the cellar, and returned with hoops
as tall as themselves. Patty assumed com-
mand of the campaign and issued her orders.
" Conny, you take a walk with Keren and
shock her as much as possible; we must
break her of being precise. And Pris, you
take charge of Mae Mertelle. Don't let her
put on any grown-up airs. If she tells you
she 's been proposed to twice, tell her you Ve
18
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been proposed to so many times that you Ve
lost count. Keep her snubbed all the time.
I '11 be elephant trainer and start Irene run-
ning; she '11 be a graceful gazelle by the time
I finish."
They parted on their several missions. St.
Ursula's peace had ended. She was in the
throes of reform.
On Friday evening two weeks later, an un-
official faculty meeting was convened in the
Dowager's study. " Lights-out " had rung
five minutes before, and three harried teach-
ers, relieved of duty for nine blessed hours
while their little charges slept, were discussing
their troubles with their chief.
" But just what have they done? " inquired
Mrs. Trent, in tones of judicial calm, as she
vainly tried to stop the flood of interjec-
tions.
" It is difficult to put one's finger on the
precise facts," Miss Wadsworth quavered.
" They have not broken any rules so far as
I can discover, but they have — er — created
an atmosphere — "
19
Just Patty
" Every girl in my corridor," said Miss
Lord, with compressed lips, " has come to
me separately, and begged to have Patty
moved back to the West Wing with Con-
stance and Priscilla."
" Patty! Mon Dieuf" Mademoiselle
rolled a pair of speaking eyes to heaven.
"The things that child thinks of I She is
one little imp."
" You remember," the Dowager addressed
Miss Lord, " I said when you suggested sep-
arating them, that it was a very doubtful
experiment. Together, they exhaust their
effervescence on each other; separated — "
u They exhaust the whole school!" cried
Miss Wadsworth, on the verge of tears.
" Of course they don't mean it, but their un-
fortunate dispositions — "
"Don't mean it!" Miss Lord's eyes
snapped. " Their heads are together plan-
ning fresh escapades every moment they are
not in class."
"But what have they done?" persisted
Mrs. Trent.
20
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Miss Wadsworth hesitated a moment in
an endeavor to choose examples from the
wealth of material that presented itself.
" I found Priscilla deliberately stirring up
the contents of Keren's bureau drawers with
a shinny stick, and when I asked what she
was doing, she replied without the least em-
barrassment, that she was trying to teach
Keren to be less exact; that Mrs. Trent had
asked her to do it."
" Um," mused the Dowager, " that was
not my precise request, but no matter."
" But the thing that has really troubled
me the most," Miss Wadsworth spoke diffi-
dently, " is a matter almost of blasphemy.
Keren has a very religious turn of mind, but
an unfortunate habit of saying her prayers
out loud. One night, after a peculiarly try-
ing day, she prayed that Priscilla might be
forgiven for being so aggravating. Where-
upon Priscilla knelt before her bed, and
prayed that Keren might become less self-
righteous and stubborn, and more ready to
join in the sports of her playmates with gen-
21
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erosity and openness of spirit. They carried
on — well, really, one might almost call it a
praying match."
" Shocking!" cried Miss Lord.
" And little Aurelie Deraismes — they
have been drilling the child in — er — idio-
matic English. The phrase that I overheard
her repeating, seemed scarcely the expression
that a lady would use."
"What was it?" inquired the Dowager,
with a slightly expectant note.
" I '11 be gum-swizzled! "
Miss Wadsworth colored a deep pink. It
was foreign to her nature even to repeat so
doubtful an expression.
The Dowager's lips twitched. It was a
fact, deplored by her assistants, that her sense
of humor frequently ran away with her sense
of justice. A very naughty little girl, if she
managed to be funny, might hope to escape;
whereas an equally naughty little girl, who
was not funny, paid the full penalty of her
crime. Fortunately, however, the school at
large, had not discovered this vulnerable spot
in the Dowager's armor.
22
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" Their influence," it was Miss Lord who
Spoke, " is demoralizing the school. Mae
iVan Arsdale says that she will go home if
she has to room any longer with Patty
Wyatt. I do not know what the trouble is,
but— "
" I know it ! " said Mademoiselle. " The
whole school laughs. It is touching the ques-
tion of a sweetch"
"Of what?" The Dowager cocked her
head. Mademoiselle's English was at times
difficult. She mixed her languages impar-
tially.
" A sweetch — some hair — to make
pompadour. Last week when they have tab-
leaux, Patty has borrowed it and has dyed
it with blueing to make a beard for Blue-
beard. But being yellow to start, it has be-
come green, and the color will not wash out.
The sweetch is ruin — entirely ruin — and
Patty is desolate. She has apologize. She
thought it would wash, but since it will not
wash, she has suggest to Mae that she color
her own hair to match the sweetch, and Mae
lose her temper and call names. Then Patty
23
Just Patty
has pretend to cry, and she put the green hair
on Mae's bed with a wreath of flowers
around, and she hang a stocking on the door
for crape, and invite the girls to come to the
funeral, and everybody laugh at Mae."
" It 's just as well," said the Dowager, un-
moved. " I do not wish to favor the wear-
ing of false hair."
" It 's the principle of the thing," said Miss
Lord.
" And that poor Irene McCullough," Ma-
demoiselle continued the tale, " she dissolves
herself in tears. Those three insist that she
make herself thin, and she has no wish to be-
come thin."
;' They take away her butter-ball," corrob-
orated Miss Wadsworth, " before she comes
to the table; they make her go without des-
sert, and they do not allow her to eat sugar
on her oatmeal. They keep her exercising
every moment, and when she complains to
me, they punish her."
" I should think," the Dowager spoke with
a touch of sarcasm, "that Irene were big
enough to take care of herself."
24
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" She has three against her," reminded
Miss Lord.
" I called Patty to my room," said Miss
Wadsworth, u and demanded an explanation.
She told me that Mrs. Trent thought that
Irene was too fat, and wished them to reduce
her twenty pounds! Patty said that it was
hard work, they were getting thin them-
selves, but they realized that they were seniors
and must exert an influence over the school.
I really think she was sincere. She talked
very sweetly about moral responsibility, and
the necessity of the older girls setting an ex-
ample."
" It is her impudence," said Miss Lord,
" that is so exasperating/*
" That 's — just Patty ' " the Dowager
laughed. " I must confess that I find all
three of them amusing. It 's good, healthy
mischief and I wish there were more of it,
They don't bribe the maids to mail letters,
or smuggle in candy, or flirt with the soda-
water clerk. They at least can be trusted."
" Trusted! " gasped Miss Lord.
;< To break every minor rule with cheerful
Just Patty
unconcern," nodded the Dowager, " but never
to do the slightest thing dishonorable. They
have kind hearts and the girls all love
them— "
A knock sounded on the door with startling
suddenness, and before anyone could reply,
the door burst open and Keren-happuch ap-
peared on the threshold. She was clutch-
ing with one hand the folds of a brilliant
Japanese kimono, the other she reserved for
gestures. The kimono was sprinkled with
fire-eating dragons as large as cats; and to
the astonished spectators, Keren's flushed face
and disheveled hair seemed to carry out the
decorative scheme. The Dowager's private
study was a sacred spot, reserved for inter-
views of formality; never had a pupil pre-
sented herself in such unceremonious garb.
" Keren ! " cried Miss Wadsworth,
" What has happened? "
" I want a new room-mate ! I can't stand
Priscilla any longer. She 's been having a
birthday party in my room — "
"A birthday party?" Mrs. Tr*nt turner/
questioningly to Miss Wadsworth.
26
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She nodded unhappily.
" Yesterday was Priscilla's birthday, and
she received a box from her aunt. This
being Friday night, I gave her permission — "
" Certainly." The Dowager turned to the
tragic figure in the center of the floor. " It
is Priscilla's room as much as yours and — "
Keren plunged into a sea of words. The
four leaned forward in a strained endeavor
to pluck some sense from the torrent.
" They used my bed for a table because
it was n't against the wall, and Patty tipped
a pot of chocolate over in the middle of it.
She said it was an accident — but she did it
on purpose — I know she did ! And because
I objected, Priscilla said it was n't polite to
notice when a guest spilled anything, and she
tipped a glass of currant jelly on my pillow,
to make Patty feel comfortable. That was
the polite thing for a hostess to do, she said;
they learned it last year in manner class.
And the chocolate soaked right through, and
Conny Wilder said it was fortunate I was
thin, because I could sleep in a curve around
it; if it had happened to Irene McCullough,
27
Just Patty
she would have had to sleep in it, because
she 's so big she takes up the whole bed. And
Priscilla said I could be thankful to-mor-
row 's Saturday when we get clean sheets ;
it might have happened so that I would have
had to sleep in that puddle of chocolate a
whole week. And then the " Lights-out "
rang, and they left me to clean up, and the
housekeeper 's gone to bed, and I can't get
any fresh bed clothes, and I won't sleep that
way ! I 'm not used to sleeping in chocolaty
sheets. I don't like America and I hate
girls."
Tears were dripping from Keren's cheeks
onto the fire-breathing dragons below. The
Dowager, without comment, rose and rang
the bell.
" Katie," she said, as the maid on duty ap-
peared at the door, " some fresh sheets for
Miss Keren, please, and remake her bed.
That will do for to-night, Keren. Get to
sleep as quickly as possible, and don't talk.
You must n't disturb the other girls. We
can see about changing room-mates to-mor-
row."
28
•3
I
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Reform
Katie and the outraged dragons withdrew.
A silence followed, while Miss Wadsworth
and Mademoiselle exchanged glances of de-
spair, and Miss Lord buckled on her war
armor.
" You see! " she said, with a suggestion of
triumph, " when they get to the point of per-
secuting a poor little — "
" In my experience of school life," said
Mrs. Trent judicially, " it is a girl's own
fault when she is persecuted. Their methods
are crude, but to the point. Keren is a hope-
less little prig — "
" But at least you can't allow her to suf-
fer — "
" Oh, no, I shall do what I can toward
peace. To-morrow morning, Keren can
move in with Irene McCullough, and Patty
and Conny and Priscilla go back to their old
rooms in the West Wing. You, Ma-
demoiselle, are somewhat inured — "
" I do not mind them together. They are
just — what you say ? — exhilarating. It
is when they are spread out that it is diffi-
cult."
29
Just Patty
"You mean," Miss Lord stared — "that
you are going to reward their disgraceful con-
'duct? It is exactly what they have been
working for."
" You must acknowledge," smiled the
Dowager, " that they have worked hard.
Perseverance deserves success."
The next morning, Patty and Conny and
Priscilla, their arms running over with
dresses and hats and sofa cushions, gaily two-
stepped down the length of " Paradise Al-
ley " while a relieved school assisted at the
flitting. As they caught sight of Miss Lord
hovering in the offing, they broke into the
chorus of a popular school song:
" We like to go to chapel
And listen to the preachers,
We are happy in our work,
And we dearly love our teachers.
Daughters of Saint Ur-su-la! "
II
The Romantic History of
Cuthbert St. John
II
The Romantic History
of Cuthbert St. John
HE DOWAGER " had a very
sensible theory that boarding-
school girls should be kept lit-
tle girls, until their school life
was over, and they stepped out, fresh and
eager and spontaneous, to greet the grown-up
world. Saint Ursula's was a cloister, in fact,
as in name. The masculine half of the hu-
man species was not supposed to count.
Sometimes a new girl was inclined to turn
up her nose at the youthful pastimes that con-
tented her companions. But in the end she
would be drawn irresistibly into the current.
She would learn to jump rope and roll hoops;
to participate in paper chases 'cross country;
to skate and coast and play hockey on winter
33
Just Patty
afternoons, to enjoy molasses-candy pulls and
popcorn around the big open fire on Saturday
nights, or impromptu masquerades, when the
school raided the trunks in the attic for cos-
tumes. After a few weeks' time, the most
spoiled little worldling lost her consciousness
of calls outside of " bounds," and surren-
dered to the spirit of the youthful sisterhood.
But girls in their teens answer readily to
the call of ROMANCE. And occasionally,
in the twilight hour between afternoon study
and the dressing bell, as they gathered in the
window-seat with faces to the western sky,
the talk would turn to the future — particu-
larly when Rosalie Patton was of the group.
Pretty, dainty, inconsequential little Rosalie
was preeminently fashioned for romance; it
clung to her golden hair and looked from her
eyes. She might be extremely hazy as to the
difference between participles and supines, she
might hesitate on her definition of a parallel-
epiped, but when the subject under discussion
was one of sentiment, she spoke with convic-
tion. For hers was no mere theoretical
34
Cuthbert St. Jphn
knowledge ; it was gained by personal experi-
ence. Rosalie had been proposed to !
She confided the details to her most inti-
mate friends, and they confided them to their
most intimate friends, until finally, the whole
school knew the entire romantic history.
Rosalie's preeminence in the field of senti-
ment was held entirely fitting. Priscilla
might excel in basket-ball, Conny Wilder in
dramatics, Keren Hersey in geometry and
Patty Wyatt in — well, in impudence and au-
dacity— but Rosalie was the recognized au-
thority in matters of the heart; and until
Mae Mertelle Van Arsdale came, nobody
thought of questioning her position.
Mae Mertelle spent an uncomfortable
month shaking into place in the school life.
The point in which she was accustomed to
excel was clothes, but when she and her four
trunks arrived, she found to her disgust that
clothes were not useful at St. Ursula's. The
school uniform reduced all to a dead level
in the matter of fashion. There was an-
other field, however, in which she might hope
35
Just Patty
for supremacy. Her own sentimental his-
tory was vivid, compared to the colorless
lives of most, and she proceeded to assert her
claims.
One Saturday evening in October, half-a-
dozen girls were gathered in Rosalie's room,
on piled-up sofa cushions, with the gas turned
low and the light of the hunter's moon
streaming through the window. They had
been singing softly in a minor key, but grad-
ually the singing turned to talk. The talk,
in accordance with the moonlight and flying
clouds, was in a sentimental vein; and it
ended, naturally, with Rosalie's Great Ex-
perience. Between maidenly hesitations and
many promptings she retold the story — the
jiew girls had never heard it, and to the old
girls it was always new.
The stage setting had been perfect — a
moonlit beach, and lapping waves and rust-
ling pine trees. When Rosalie chanced to
omit any detail, her hearers, already familiar
with the story, eagerly supplied it.
" And he held your hand all the time he
was talking," Priscilla prompted.
36
Cuthbert St. John
"Oh, Rosalie! Did he?" in a shocked
chorus from the newcomers.
" Y — yes. He just sort of took hold of
it and forgot to let go, and I did n't like to
remind him."
"What did he say?"
" He said he could n't live without me."
" And what did you say? "
" I said I was awfully sorry, but he 'd
have to."
"And then what happened?"
" Nothing happened," she was obliged to
confess. " I s'pose something might have
happened if I 'd accepted him, but you see,
I didn't."
" But you were very young at the time,"
suggested Evalina Smith. " Are you sure
you knew your own mind? "
Rosalie nodded with an air of melancholy
regret.
" Yes. I knew I could n't ever love him,
because, he — well, he had an awfully funny
nose. It started to point in one direction,
and then changed its mind and pointed in the
other."
37
Just Patty
Her hearers would have preferred that
she had omitted this detail; but Rosalie was
literal-minded and lacked the story-teller's
instinct for suppression.
" He asked if there was n't any hope that
I would change," she added pensively. " I
told him that I could never love him enough
to marry him, but that I would always re-
spect him."
" And then what did he say? "
" He said he would n't commit sui-
cide."
A profound hush followed, while Rosalie
gazed at the moon and the others gazed at
Rosalie. With her gleaming hair and violet
eyes, she was entirely their ideal of a story-
book heroine. They did not think of envy-
ing her ; they merely wondered and admired.
She was crowned by natural right, Queen
of Romance.
Mae Van Arsdale, who had listened in
silence to the recital, was the first to break
the spell. She rose, fluffed up her hair,
straightened her blouse, and politely sup-
pressed a yawn.
38
Cuthbert St. John
" Nonsense, Rosalie ! You 're a silly lit-
tle goose to make such a fuss over nothing.
— Good-night, children. I 'm going to
bed."
She sauntered toward the door, but paused
on the threshold to drop the casual state-
ment. " / 've been proposed to three
times."
A shocked gasp arose from the circle at
this lese-majeste. The disdainful condescen-
sion of a new girl was more than they could
brook.
" She 's a horrid old thing, and I don't be-
lieve a word she says!" Priscilla declared
stoutly, as she kissed poor crushed little
Rosalie good-night.
This slight contretemps marked the be-
ginning of strained relations. Mae Mer-
telle gathered her own adherents, and Rosa-
lie's special coterie of friends rallied to the
standard of their queen. They intimated
to Mae's followers that the quality of the
romance was quite different in the two cases.
Mae might be the heroine of any number
of commonplace flirtations, but Rosalie was
39
Just Patty
the victim of a grande passion. She was
marked with an indelible scar that she would
carry to the grave. In the heat of their
allegiance, they overlooked the crookedness
of the hero's nose and the avowed fact that
Rosalie's own affections had not been en>
gaged.
But Mae's trump card had been withheld.
Whispers presently spread about under the
seal of confidence. She was hopelessly in
love. It was not a matter of the past vaca-
tion, but of the burning present. Her room-
mate wakened in the night to hear her sobbing
*-,o herself. She had no appetite — her
whole table could testify to that. In the
middle of dessert, even on ice-cream nights,
she would forget to eat, and with her spoon
half-raised, would sit staring into space.
When reminded that she was at the table,
she would start guiltily and hastily bolt the
rest of the meal. Her enemies unkindly |
commented upon the fact that she always
came to before the end, so she got as much as
anybody else.
The English classes at St. Ursula's were
40
Cuthbert St. John
weekly drilled in the old-fashioned art of
letter writing. The girls wrote letters home,
minutely descriptive of school life. They
addressed imaginary girl friends, and grand-
mothers and college brothers and baby sis-
ters. They were learning the great secret
of literary forcefulness — to suit their style
to their audience. Ultimately, they arrived
at the point of thanking imaginary young
men for imaginary flowers. Mae listened
to the somewhat stilted phraseology of these
polite and proper notes with a supercilious
smile. The class, covertly regarding her,
thrilled anew.
Gradually, the details of the romance
spread abroad. The man was English — •
Mae had met him on the steamer — and
some day when his elder brother died (the
brother was suffering from an incurable
malady Jiat would carry him off in a few
years) he would come into the title; though
just what the title was, Mae had not spe-
cifically stated. But in any case, her father
was a staunch American; he hated the Eng-
lish and he hated titles. No daughter of
Just Patty
his should ever marry a foreigner. If she
did, she would never receive a dollar from
him. However, neither Mae nor Cuthbert
cared about the money. Cuthbert had
plenty of his own. His name was Cuth-
bert St. John. (Pronounced Sinjun.) He
had four names in all, but those were the two
he used the most. He was in England low,
having been summoned by cable, owing to the
critical condition of his brother's health, but
the crisis was past, and Cuthbert would soon
be returning. Then — Mae closed her lips
in a straight line and stared defiantly into
space. Her father should see !
Before the throbbing reality of this ro-
mance, Rosalie's poor little history paled
into nothing.
Then the plot began to thicken. Studying
the lists of incoming steamers, Mae an-
nounced to her room-mate that he had
landed. He had given his word to her fa-
ther not to write ; but she knew that in some
way she should hear. And sure enough!
The following morning brought a nameless
bunch of violets. There had been doubters
42
Cuthbert St. John
before — but at this tangible proof of devo-
tion, skepticism crumbled.
Mae wore her violets to church on Sun-
day. The school mixed its responses in a
shocking fashion — nobody pretended to
follow the service; all eyes were fixed on
Mae's upturned face and far-off smile.
Patty Wyatt pointed out that Mae had taken
special pains to seat herself in the light of
a stained-glass window, and that occasion-
ally the rapt eyes scanned the faces of her
companions, to make sure that the effect was
reaching across the footlights. But Patty's
insinuation was indignantly repudiated by the
school.
Mae was at last triumphantly secure in the
role of leading lady. Poor insipid Rosalie
no longer had a speaking part.
The affair ran on for several weeks gath-
ering momentum as it moved. In the Eu-
ropean Travel Class that met on Monday
nights, " English Country Seats " was the
subject of one of the talks, illustrated by the
stercopticon. As a stately, terraced man-
sion, with deer cropping grass in the fore-
Just Patty
ground, was thrown upon the screen, Mae
Mertelle suddenly grew faint. She vouch-
safed no reason to the housekeeper who
came with hot-water bottles and cologne ; but
later, she whispered to her room-mate that
that was the house where he was born.
Violets continued to arrive each Saturday,
and Mae became more and more distrait.
The annual basket-ball game with Highland
Hall, a near-by school for girls, was immi-
nent. St. Ursula's had been beaten the year
before; it would mean everlasting disgrace
if defeat met them a second time, for High-
land Hall was a third their size. The cap-
tain harangued and scolded an apathetic
team.
" It 's Mae Mertelle and her beastly vio-
lets ! " she disgustedly grumbled to Patty.
" She 's taken all the fight out of them."
The teachers, meanwhile, were uneasily
jaware that the atmosphere was overcharged.
The girls stood about in groups, thrilling
visibly when Mae Mertelle passed by.
There was a moonlight atmosphere about
the school that was not conducive to high
44
Cuthbert St. John
marks in Latin prose composition. The
matter finally became the subject of an anx-
ious faculty meeting. There was no actual
data at hand; it was all surmise, but the
source of the trouble was evident. The
school had been swept before by a wave of
sentiment; it was as catching as the measles.
The Dowager was inclined to think that the
simplest method of clearing the atmosphere
would be to pack Mae Mertelle and her four
trunks back to the paternal fireside, and let
her foolish mother deal with the case. Miss
Lord was characteristically bent upon fight-
ing it out. She would stop the nonsense by
force. Mademoiselle, who was inclined to
sentiment, feared that the poor child was
really suffering. She thought sympathy and
tact — But Miss Sallie's bluff common-
sense won the day. If the sanity of Saint
Ursula's demanded it, Mae Mertelle must
go; but she thought, by the use of a little
diplomacy, both St. Ursula's sanity and Mae
Mertelle might be preserved. Leave the
matter to her. She would use her own
methods.
45
Just Patty
Miss Sallie was the Dowager's daughter,
She managed the practical end of the estat>
lishment — provided for the table, ruled thq
servants, and ran off, with the utmost ease,
the two hundred acres of the school farm.
Between the details of horseshoeing and hay*
ing and butter-making, she lent her abilities
wherever they were needed. She never
taught; but she disciplined. The school wag
noted for unusual punishments, and most
of them originated in Miss Sallie's brain.
Her title of " Dragonette " was bestowed in
respectful admiration of her mental quali-
ties.
The next day was Tuesday, Miss Sallie's
regular time for inspecting the farm. As
she came downstairs after luncheon drawing
on her driving gloves, she just escaped step-
ping on Conny Wilder and Patty Wyatt who,
flat on their stomachs, were trying to poke out
a golf ball from under the hat-rack.
"Hello, girls!" was her cheerful greet-
ing. " Would n't you like a little drive to
the farm? Run and tell Miss Wadsworth
that you are excused from afternoon study.
46
Cuthbert St. John
You may stay away from Current Event-
this evening, and make it up."
The two scrambled into hats and coats in
excited delight. A visit to Round Hill
Farm with Miss Sallie, was the greatest good
that St. Ursula's had to offer. For Miss
Sallie — out of bounds — was the funniest,
most companionable person in the world.
After an exhilarating five-mile drive through
a brown and yellow October landscape, they
spent a couple of hours romping over the
farm, had milk and ginger cookies in Mrs.
Spencc's kitchen; and started back, wedged
in between cabbages and eggs and butter.
They chatted gaily on a dozen different
themes — the Thanksgiving masquerade, a
possible play, the coming game with High-
land Hall, and the lamentable new rule that
made them read the editorials in the daily
papers. Finally, when conversation flagged
for a moment, Miss Sallie dropped the casual
inquiry:
" By the way, girls, what has got into Mae
Van Arsdale? She droops about in corners
and looks as dismal as a molting chicken."
47
Just Patty
Patty and Conny exchanged a glance.
" Of course," Miss Sallie continued cheer-
fully, " it 's perfectly evident what the trouble
is. I have n't been connected with a board-
ing-school for ten years for nothing. The
little idiot is posing as the object of an un-
happy affection. You know that I never
favor talebearing, but, just as a matter of
curiosity, is it the young man who passes the
plate in church, or the one who sells ribbon
in Marsh and Elkins's?"
"Neither." Patty grinned. " It 's an
English nobleman."
"What?" Miss Sallie stared.
"And Mae's father hates English noble-
men," Conny explained, " and has forbidden
him ever to see her again."
" Her heart is broken," said Patty sadly.
" She 's going into a decline."
"And the violets?" inquired Miss Sallie.
" He promised not to send her any letters,
but violets were n't mentioned."
" H'm, I see! " said Miss Sallie; and, after
a moment of thought, " Girls, I am going to
48 '
His name was Cuthbert St. John
Cuthbert St. John
leave this matter in your hands. I want it
stopped."
" In our hands?"
;' The school can't be stirred up any
longer ; but the matter 's too silly to warrant
the teachers taking any notice of it. This
is a thing that ought to be regulated by pub-
lic opinion. Suppose you see what you can
do — I will appoint you a committee to bring
the school back to a solid basis of common
sense. I know that I can trust you not to
talk."
" I don't exactly see what we can do," said
Patty, dubiously.
' You are usually not without resource-
fulness," Miss Sallie returned with a flicker-
ing smile. " You may have carte blanche
to choose your own methods."
"And may we tell Priscilla?" Conny
asked. "We must tell her because we
•three — "
"Hunt together?" Miss Sallie nodded.
" Tell Priscilla, and let it stop at that."
The next afternoon, when Martin drove
49
Just Patty
into the village to accomplish the daily er-
rands, he dropped Patty and Priscilla at the
florists, empowered by the school to pur-
chase flowers for the rector's wife and new
baby. They turned inside, their minds en-
tirely occupied with the rival merits of red
and white roses. They ordered their flow-
ers, inscribed the card, and then waited aim-
lessly till Martin should return to pick them
up. Passing down the counter, they came
upon a bill-sticker, the topmost item being,
" Violets every Saturday to Miss Mae Van
Arsdale, St. Ursula's School."
They stopped and stared for a thought-
ful moment. The florist followed their
gaze.
" Do you happen to know the young lady
who ordered them vi'lets?" he inquired.
" She did n't leave any name, and I 'd like
to know if she wants me to keep on sending
em. She only paid up to the first, and the
price is going up."
" No, I don't know who it was," said
Patty, with well-assumed indifference.
"What did she look like?"
50
Cuthbert St. John
" She — she had on a blue coat," he sug-
gested. As all sixty-four of the St. Ursula
girls wore blue coats, his description was not-
helpful.
" Oh," Patty prompted, u was she quite
tall with a lot of yellow hair and — "
"That's her!"
He recognized the type with some assur-
ance.
"It's Mae herself!" Priscilla whispered
excitedly.
Patty nodded and commanded silence.
" We '11 tell her," she promised. " And
by the way," she added to Priscilla, " I think
it would be nice for us to send some flowers
to Mae, from our — er — secret society.
But I 'm afraid the treasury is pretty low
just now. They '11 have to be cheaper than
violets. What are your cheapest flowers?"
she inquired of the man.
;< There 's a kind of small sunflower that
some people likes for decoration. ' Cut-and-
come-again ' they 're called. I can give you
a good-sized bunch for fifty cents. They
make quite a show."
Just Patty
" Just the thing 1 Send a bunch of sun-
flowers to Miss Van Arsdale with this card.'*
Patty drew a blank card toward her, and in
an upright back hand traced the inscription,
" Your disconsolate C. St. J."
She sealed it in an envelope, then regarded
the florist sternly.
" Are you a Mason? " she asked, her eye
on the crescent in his buttonhole.
" Y — yes," he acknowledged.
" Then you understand the nature of an
oath of secrecy? You are not to divulge
to anyone the sender of these flowers. The
tall young lady with the yellow hair will
come in here and try to make you tell who
sent them. You are not to remember. It
may even have been a man. You don't
know anything about it. This secret so-
ciety at Saint Ursula's is so very much more
secret than the Masonic Society, that it is
even a secret that it exists. Do you under-
stand?"
"I — yes, ma'am," he grinned.
" If it becomes known," she added darkly,
" I shall not be responsible for your life."
52
Cuthbert St. John
She and Priscilla each contributed a quar-
ter.
" It 's going to be expensive," Patty
• sighed. "I think we'll have to ask Miss
Sallie for an extra allowance while this com-
mittee is in session."
Mae was in her room, surrounded by an
assemblage of her special followers, when
the flowers arrived. She received the box
in some bewilderment.
" He 's sending flowers on Wednesdays as
well as Saturdays!" her room-mate cried.
" He must be getting desperate."
Mae opened the box amid an excited
hush.
" How perfectly lovely!" they cried in
chorus, though with a slightly perfunctory
undertone. They would have preferred
crimson roses.
Mae regarded the offering for a moment
of stupefied amazement. She had been pre^
tending so long, that by now she almost be«
lieved in Cuthbert herself. The circle was
waiting, and she rallied her powers to meet
this unexpected crisis.
53
Just Patty
"I wonder what sunflowers mean?" she
asked softly. " They must convey some
message. Does anybody know the language
of flowers?"
Nobody did know the language of flow-
ers; but they were relieved at the sugges-
tion.
" Here 's a card! " Evalina Smith plucked
it from among the bristling leaves.
Mae made a motion to examine it in pri-
vate, but she had been so generous with her
confidences heretofore, that she was not al-
lowed to withdraw them at this interesting
point. They leaned over her shoulder andl
read it aloud.
"'Your disconsolate C. St. J.'— Oh>
Mae, think how he must be suffering! "
"Poor man!"
" He simply could n't remain silent any
longer."
" He 's the soul of honor," said Mae.
" He would n't write a real letter because
he promised not to, but I suppose — a little
message like this — "
Patty Wyatt passing the door, sauntered
54
Cuthbert St. John
in. The card was exhibited in spite of a
feeble protest from Mae.
" That handwriting shows a lot of char-
acter," Patty commented.
This was considered a concession; for
Patty, from the first, had held aloof from the
cult of Cuthbert St. John. She was Rosalie's
friend.
The days that followed, were filled with
bewildering experiences for Mae Mertelle.
Having accepted the first installment of sun-
flowers, she could not well refuse the sec-
ond. Once having committed herself, she
was lost. Candy and books followed the
flowers in horrifying profusion. The candy
was of an inexpensive variety — Patty had
discovered the ten-cent store — but the boxes
that contained it made up in decorativeness
what the candy lacked; they were sprinkled
with Cupids and roses in vivid profusion. A
message in the same back hand accompanied
each gift, signed sometimes with initials, and
sometimes with a simple " Bertie." Parcels
had never before been delivered with such
unsuspicious promptitude. Miss Sallie was
55
Just Patty
the one through whose hands they went. She
glanced at thcv outside, scrawled a " deliver,"
and the maid would choose the most embar-
rassing moments to comply — always when,
Mae Mertelle was surrounded by an audi-
ence.
Mae's Englishman, from an object of sen-
timent, in a few days' time became the joke
of the school. His taste in literature was as
impossible as his taste in candy. He ran to
titles which are supposed to be the special
prerogative of the kitchen. " Loved and
Lost," " A Born Coquette," " Thorns among
the Orange Blossoms." Poor Mae repudi-
ated them, but to no avail ; the school had ac-
cepted Cuthbert — and was bent upon elicit-
ing all the entertainment possible from his
British vagaries. Mae's life became one long
dread of seeing the maid appear with a par-
cel. The last straw was the arrival of a
complete edition — in paper — of Marie
Corelli.
" He — he never sent them ! " she sobbed.
41 Somebody's just trying to be funny."
56
Cuthbert St. John
" You mustn't mind, Mae, because they
are n't just the sort that an American man
would choose," Patty offered comfort.
* You know that Englishmen have queer
tastes, particularly in books. Everybody
reads Marie Corelli over there."
The next Saturday, a party of girls was
taken to the city for shopping and the mat-
inee. Among other errands, the art class
visited a photograph dealer's, to purchase
some early Italian masters. Patty's interest
m Giotto and his kind was not very keen, and
she sauntered off on a tour of inspection.
She happened upon a pile of actors and ac-
tresses, and her eye brightened as she singled
out a large photograph of an unfamiliar lead-
ing man, with curling mustache and dimpled
chin and large appealing eyes. He was
dressed in hunting costume and conspicuously
displayed a crop. The picture was the last
word in Twentieth Century Romance. And,
most perfect touch of all, it bore a London
mark!
Patty unobtrusively deflected the rest of
57
Just Patty
the committee from a consideration of Fra
Angelico, and the three heads bent delight-
edly over the find.
, " It 's perfect! " Conny sighed. " But it
costs a dollar and fifty cents."
" We '11 have to go without soda water
forever!" said Priscilla.
" It is expensive," Patty agreed, " but — "
as she restudied the liquid, appealing eyes — •
" I really think it 's worth it."
They each contributed fifty cents, and the
picture was theirs.
Patty wrote across the front, in the bold
back hand that Mae had come to hate, a ten-
der message in French, and signed the full
name, " Cuthbert St. John." She had it
wrapped in a plain envelope and requested
the somewhat wondering clerk to mail it the
following Wednesday morning, as it was an
anniversary present and must not arrive be-
tfore the day.
The picture came on the five-o'clock deliv-
ery, and was handed to Mae as the girls
trooped out from afternoon study. She re-
Cuthbert St. John
ceived it in sulky silence and retired to her
room. Half a dozen of her dearest friends
followed at her heels ; Mae had worked hard
to gain a following, and now it could n't be
shaken off.
" Open it, Mae, quick! "
" What do you s'pose it is? "
" It can't be flowers or candy. He must
be starting something new."
" I don't care what it is ! " Mae viciously
tossed the parcel into the wastebasket.
Irene McCullough fished it out and cut the
string.
"Oh, Mae, it's his photograph!" she
squealed. " And he 's per-fect-ly beau-ti-
ful!"
" Did you ever see such eyes ! "
" Does he curl his mustache, or is it nat-
ural?"
' Why did n't you tell us he had a dimple
in his chin? "
" Does he always wear those clothes? "
Mae was divided between curiosity and an-
ger. She snatched the photograph away,
59
Just Patty
cast one glance at the languishing brown eyes,
and tumbled it, face downward, into a bu-
reau drawer.
" Don't ever mention his name to me
again! " she commanded, as, with compressed
lips, she commenced brushing her hair for
dinner.
On the next Friday afternoon — shopping
day in the village — Patty and Conny and
Priscilla dropped in at the florist's to pay a
bill.
" Two bunches of sunflowers, one dollar,"
the man had just announced in ringing tones
from the rear of the store, when a step
sounded behind them, and they faced about
to find Mae Mertelle Van Arsdale, bent on
a similar errand.
" Oh! " said Mae, fiercely, " I might have
known it was you three. "
She stared for a moment in silence, then
she dropped into a rustic seat and buried her
head on the counter. She had shed so many
tears of late that they flowed automatically.
" I suppose," she sobbed, " you '11 tell the
60
Cuthbert St. John
whole school, and everybody will laugh and
— and — "
The three regarded her with unbending
mien. They were not to be moved by a few
tears.
" You said that Rosalie was a silly little
goose to make such a fuss over nothing,''
Priscilla reminded her.
" And at least he was a live man," said
Patty, " even if he did have a crooke4 nose."
" Do you still think she was a silly
goose? " Conny inquired.
"N — no!"
" Don't you think you Ve been a great deal
more silly? "
"Y — yes."
" And will you apologize to Rosalie? "
11 .Nor1
" It will make quite a funny story," Patty,
ruminated, " the way we '11 tell it."
" I think you 're perfectly horrid 1 "
"Will you apologize to Rosalie?" Pris-
cilla asked again.
44 Yes — if you '11 promise not to tell"
61
Just Patty
" We '11 promise on one condition —
you 're to break your engagement to Cuthbert
St. John, and never refer to it again."
Cuthbert sailed for England on the
Oceanic the following Thursday ; St. Ursula's
plunged into a fever of basket-ball, and the
atmosphere became bracingly free of Ro-
mance.
62
Ill
The Virgil Strike
Ill
The Virgil Strike
'M tired of Woman's Rights
on Friday afternoons," said
Patty disgustedly. "I prefer
soda water ! "
' This makes the third time they 've taken
away our holiday for the sake of a beastly
lecture," Priscilla grumbled, as she peered
over Patty's shoulder to read the notice on
the bulletin board, in Miss Lord's perpendic-
ular library hand.
It informed the school that instead of the
usual shopping expedition to the village, they
would have the pleasure that afternoon of
listening to a talk by Professor McVey of
Columbia University. The subject would
be the strike of the women laundry workers.
Tea would be served in the drawing-room
Just Patty
afterwards, with Mae Van Arsdale, Harriet
Gladden, and Patty Wyatt as hostesses.
" It 's not my turn I " objected Patty, as
she noted the latter item. " I was hostess
two weeks ago."
" That 's because you wrote an essay oa
the ' Eight Hour Day.' Lordie thinks you
will ask the professor-man intelligent ques-
tions; and show him that St. Ursula's is not
a common boarding-school where only super-
ficial accomplishments are taught, but one in
which the actual problems of — "
" And I did want to go shopping ! " Patty
mourned. " I need some new shoe-strings.
I Ve been tying a knot in my old ones every
day for a week."
" Here she comes," whispered Priscilla.
" Look happy or she '11 make you translate
the whole — Good morning, Miss Lord I
We were just noticing about the lecture. It
sounds extremely interesting."
The two smiled a perfunctory greeting, and
followed their teacher to the morning's
Latin.
Miss Lord was the one who struck the
66
The Virgil Strike
modern note at St. Ursula's. She believed
in militant suffragism and unions and boy-
cotts and strikes; and she labored hard to
bring her little charges to her own advanced
position. But it was against a heavy inertia
that she worked. Her little charges didn't
care a rap about receiving their rights, in the
dim future of twenty-one ; but they were very
much concerned about losing a present half-
holiday. On Friday afternoons, they were
ordinarily allowed to draw checks on the
school bank for their allowances, and march
in a procession — a teacher forming the head
and tail — to the village stores, where they
laid in their weekly supply of hair ribbons and
soda water and kodak films. Even had one
acquired so many demerits that her weekly
stipend was entirely eaten up by fines, still
she marched to the village and watched the
lucky ones disburse. It made a break in the
monotony of six days of bounds.
But every cloud has its silver lining.
Miss Lord preceded the Virgil recitation
that morning by a discussion of the lecture
to come. The laundry strike, she told them,
Just Patty
marked an epoch in industrial history. It
proved that women, as well as men, were
capable of standing by each other. The sol-
idarity of labor was a point she wished her
girls to grasp. Her girls listened with grave
attention; and by eagerly putting a question,
whenever she showed signs of running down,
Sthey managed to stave off the Latin recitation
for three quarters of an hour.
The professor, a mild man with a Van Dyke
beard, came and lectured exhaustively upon
the relations of employer and employed.
His audience listened with politely intelligent
smiles, but with minds serenely occupied else-
where. The great questions of Capital and
Labor, were not half so important to them,
as the fact of the lost afternoon, or the es-
says that must be written for to-morrow's
English, or even that this was ice-cream night
with dancing class to follow. But Patty, on
the front seat, sat with wide, serious eyes
fixed on the lecturer's face. She was absorb-
ing his arguments — and storing them for
Use.
Tea followed according to schedule. The
68
The Virgil Strike
three chosen ones received their guests with
the facility of long-tried hostesses. The fact
that their bearing was under inspection, with
marks to follow, did not appreciably diminish
their ease. They were learning by the labora-
tory method, the social graces that would be
needed later in the larger world. Harriet
and Mae presided at the tea table, while
Patty engaged the personage in conversation.
He commented later, to Miss Lord, upon the
students' rare understanding in economic sub-
jects.
Miss Lord replied with some complaisance
that she endeavored to have her girls think
for themselves. Sociology was a field in
which lessons could not be taught by rote.
Each must work out her own conclusions, and
act upon them.
Ice-cream and dancing restored the balance
of St. Ursula's, after the mental exertions of
,the afternoon. At half-past nine — the
school did not retire until ten on dancing
nights — Patty and Priscilla dropped their
goodnight courtesy, murmured a polite
"Bon soir, Mam'selle" and scampered up-
Just Patty
stairs, still very wide awake. Instead of pre-
paring for bed with all dispatch, as well-con-
ducted school girls should, they engaged
themselves in practising the steps of their
new Spanish dance down the length of the
South Corridor. They brought up with a
pirouette at Rosalie Patton's door.
Rosalie, still in the pale blue fluffiness of
her dancing frock, was sitting cross-legged
on the couch, her yellow curls bent over the
open pages of a Virgil, tears spattering with
dreary regularity on the lines she was con-
ning.
The course of Rosalie's progress through
senior Latin might be marked by blistered
pages. She was a pretty, cuddling, helpless
little thing, deplorably babyish for a senior;
but irresistibly appealing. Everyone teased
her, and protected her, and loved her. She
was irrevocably predestined to bowl over the
first man who came along, with her ultra
feminine irresponsibility. Rosalie very often
dreamed — when she ought to have been con-
centrating upon Latin grammar — of that
happy future state in which smiles and kisses
70
The Virgil Strike
would take the place of gerunds and gerun-
dives.
"You silly little muff!" cried Patty.
" Why on earth are you bothering with Latin
on a Friday night? "
She landed herself with a plump on Ro-
salie's right, and took away the book.
"I have to," Rosalie sobbed. " I 'd
never finish if I did n't begin. I don't see
any sense to it. I can't do eighty lines in
two hours. Miss Lord always calls on me
for the end, because she knows I won't know
it."
" Why don't you begin at the end and read
backwards?" Patty practically suggested.
" But that would n't be fair, and I can't do
it so fast as the others. I work more than
two hours every day, but I simply never get
through. I know I shan't pass."
" Eighty lines is a good deal," Patty
agreed.
" It 's easy for you, because you know all
the words, but — "
" I worked more than two hours on mine
yesterday," said Priscilla, " and I can't af-
7*
Just Patty
ford it either. I have to save some time for
geometry."
" / just simply can't do it" Rosalie wailed.
" And she thinks I 'm stupid because I don't
keep up with Patty."
Conny Wilder drifted in.
"What's the matter?" she asked, view-
ing Rosalie's tear-streaked face. " Cry on
the pillow, child. Don't spoil your dress."
The Latin situation was explained.
" Oh, it 's awful the way Lordie works
us! She would like to have us spend every
moment grubbing over Latin and sociology.
She — "
" Does n't think dancing and French and
manners are any good at all," sobbed Rosalie,
mentioning the three branches in which she
excelled, " and I think they 're a lot more
sensible than subjunctives. You can put them
to practical use, and you can't sociology and
Latin."
Patty emerged from a moment of revery.
( There 's not much use in Latin," she
agreed, " but I should think that something
might be done with sociology. Miss Lord
72
The Virgil Strike
told us to apply it to our everyday prob-
lems."
Rosalie swept the idea aside with a gesture
of disdain.
" Listen ! " Patty commanded, springing
to her feet and pacing the floor in an ecstasy
of enthusiasm. " I 've got an idea ! It 's
perfectly true. Eighty lines of Virgil is too
much for anybody to learn — particularly
Rosalie. And you heard what the man said:
it is n't fair to gage the working day by the
capacity of the strongest. The weakest has
to set the pace, or else he 's left behind.
That 's what Lordy means when she talks
about the solidarity of labor. In any trade,
the workers have got to stand by each other.
The strong must protect the weak. It 's the
duty of the rest of the class to stand by Ro-
salie."
" Yes, but how?" inquired Priscilla,
breaking into the tirade.
" We '11 form a Virgil Union, and strike
for sixty lines a day."
" Oh ! " gasped Rosalie, horrified at the
•audacity of the suggestion.
7?
Just Patty
" Let 's I " cried Conny, rising to the call
" Do you think we can? " asked Priscilla,
dubiously.
uWhat will Miss Lord say?" Rosalie
quavered.
" She can't say anything. Did n't she tell
us to listen to the lecture and apply its teach-
ing?"
" She '11 be delighted to find we have," said
Conny.
" But what if she doesn't give in? "
' We '11 call out the Cicero and Caesar
classes in a sympathetic strike."
" Hooray! " cried Conny.
" Lordy does believe in Unions," Priscilla
conceded. " She ought to see the justice of
it."
" Of course she '11 see the justice of it,"
Patty insisted. " We 're exactly like the
laundry workers — in the position of de-
pendents, and the only way we can match
strength with our employer, is by standing
together. If Rosalie alone drops back to
sixty lines, she '11 be flunked; but if the whole
class does, Lordre will have to give in."
74
The Virgil Strike
" Maybe the whole class won't want to
join the union," said Priscilla.
" We '11 make 'em! " said Patty. In ac-
cordance with Miss Lord's desire, she had
grasped some basic principles.
" We '11 have to hurry," she added, glan-
cing at the clock. " Pris, you run and find
Irene and Harriet and Florence Hissop ; and
Conny, you route out Nancy Lee — she 's up
in Evalina Smith's room telling ghost stories.
Here, Rosalie, stop crying and dump the
things off those chairs so somebody can sit
down.'*
Priscilla started obediently, but paused on
the threshold.
"And what will you do?" she inquired
with meaning.
" I," said Patty, " will be labor leader."
The meeting was convened, and Patty, a
self-constituted chairman, outlined the tenets
of the Virgil Union. Sixty lines was to con-
stitute a working day. The class was to ex-
plain the case to Miss Lord at the regular
session on Monday morning, and politely but
positively refuse to read the last twenty lines
75
Just Patty
that had been assigned. If Miss Lord
proved insistent, the girls were to close their
books and go out on strike.
The majority of the class, hypnotized by
Patty's eloquence, dazedly accepted the pro-
gram; but Rosalie, for whose special benefit
the union had been formed, had to be coerced
into signing the constitution. Finally, after
a wealth of argument had been expended, she
wrote her name in a very wobbly hand, and
sealed it with a tear. By nature, Rosalie
was not a fighter; she preferred gaining her
rights by more feminine methods.
Irene McCullough had also to be forced.
She was a cautious soul who looked forward
to consequences. One of the most frequently
applied of St. Ursula's punishments was to
make the culprit miss desserts. Irene suf-
fered keenly under this form of chastisement ;
and she carefully refrained from misdemean-
ors which might bring it upon her. But
Conny produced a convincing argument. She
threatened to tell that the chambermaid was
in the habit of smuggling in chocolates —
76
Patty outlined the tenets of the Virgil Union
The Virgil Strike
and poor harassed Irene, threatened with the
two-fold loss of chocolates and dessert, sul-
lenly added her signature.
" Lights-out " rang. The Virgil Union
adjourned its first meeting and went to bed.
•
Senior Latin came the last hour of the
morning, when everyone was tired and hun-
gry. On the Monday following the found-
ing of the Union, the Virgil class gathered
outside the door, in growing perturbation as
the actual time for the battle approached,
Patty rallied them in a brief address.
" Brace up, Rosalie ! Don't be a cry-
baby. We '11 help you out if the last lines
come to you. And for goodness' sake, girls,
don't look so scared. Remember you 're suf-
fering, not only for yourselves, but for all
the generations of Virgil classes that come
after you. Anyone who backs down now is
a COWARD! "
Patty established herself on the front seat,
directly in the line of the fire, and a slight
skirmish occurred at the outset. Her heavy
77
Just Patty
walking boots were conspicuously laced with
pale blue baby ribbon, which caught the
enemy's eye.
' That is scarcely the kind of shoe laces
that a lady adopts. May I ask, Patty — ? "
" I broke my other laces," Patty affably
explained, " and since we did n't go shopping
on Friday, I could n't get any more. I don't
quite like the effect myself," she conceded,
as she stuck out a foot and critically sur-
veyed it.
" See that you find some black ones imme-
diately after class," Miss Lord acidly sug-
gested. " Priscilla, you may read the first
ten lines."
The lesson progressed in the usual manner,
except that there was a visible tightening of
nerves as each recitation was finished, and
they waited to hear the next name called.
Conny's turn ended with the sixtieth line.
No one had gone beyond that; all ahead was
virgin jungle. This was the point for the
Union to declare itself; and the burden, true
to her forebodings, fell upon poor trembling
little Rosalie.
78
The Virgil Strike
She cast an imploring glance toward
Patty's sternly waiting countenance, stam-
mered, hesitated, and miserably plunged into
a sight translation. Rosalie never had the
slightest luck at sight translations; even after
two hours of patient work with a dictionary,
she was still extremely hesitant as to meanings.
Now, she blindly forged ahead, — amid a
profound hush — attributing to the Pious
^Eneas a most amazing set of actions. She
finished; and the slaughter commenced.
Miss Lord spent three minutes in obliter-
ating Rosalie; then passed the lines to Irene
McCullough.
Irene drew a deep breath — she felt
Conny encouragingly patting her on the back,
while Patty and Priscilla, at either hand,
jogged her elbow with insistent touch. She
opened her mouth to declare the principles
that had been foisted upon her over night;
then she caught the cold gleam of Miss
Lord's eye. Rosalie's sobs filled the room.
And she fell. Irene was fairly good at
Latin — her sight translation was at least in-
telligible. Miss Lord's comment was merely
79
just Patty
sarcastic, as she passed to Florence Hissop.
By this time the panic had swept through the
ranks. Florence would like to have been
true to her pledged troth, but the instinct of
self-preservation is strong. She improved on
Irene's performance.
;' Take the next ten lines, Patty, and en-
deavor to extract a glimmering of sense.
Please bear in mind that we are reading
poetry."
Patty raised her head and faced her su-
perior in the manner of a Christian martyr.
" I only prepared the first sixty lines, Miss
Lord."
'* Why did you not finish the lesson that I
gave out? " Miss Lord inquired sharply.
' We have decided that eighty lines are
more than we can do in a day. It takes too
much time away from our other lessons. We
are perfectly willing to do sixty lines, and
do them thoroughly, but we can't consider
any more."
Miss Lord for a moment simply stared.
Never had she known such a flagrant case of
insubordination. And it was purely insub-
80
The Virgil Strike
ordination, for Patty was the most capable
person in the class.
"What do you mean?" she gasped at
last.
" We have formed a Virgil Union," Patty
gravely explained. " You, Miss Lord, will
appreciate the fairness of our demands bet-
ter than any of the other teachers, because
you believe in unions. Now, the girls in
this class feel that they are overworked and
underpa — er — that is, I mean the lessons
are too long."
Patty fetched a deep breath and started
again.
" Eighty lines a day does n't leave us any
time for recreation, so we have determined
to join together and demand our rights. We
occupy the position of skilled laborers. You
can get all the girls you want for Caesar and
beginning Latin, but you can't find anybody
but us to read Virgil. It 's like the laundry
trade. We are not just plain boilers and
starchers; we are fancy ironers. If you want
to have a Virgil class, you have got to have
us. You can't call in scab labor. Now, we
6 81
Just Patty
are n't trying to take advantage because of
our superior strength. We are perfectly
willing to do an honest day's work, but we
can't allow ourselves to be — • er — to be — "
Patty fumbled a moment for her word,
but in the end she brought it out trium-
phantly.
" We can't allow ourselves to be exploited.
Singly, we are no match for you, but together,
we can dictate our own terms. Because two
or three of us can keep up the pace you set,
is no reason why we should allow the others
to be overworked. It is our duty to stand
by one another against the encroachments of
our employer. We women are not so ad-
vanced as men. But we are learning. Upon
the solidarity of labor depends the life of
Rosalie. In case you refuse to meet our de-
mands, the Virgil class will be obliged to go
out on strike."
Patty pronounced her ultimatum, and
leaned back with folded arms.
A moment of silence followed. Then
Miss Lord spoke. The class went down in
hopeless, abject terror before the stopm,
82
The Virgil Strike
Miss Lord's icy sarcasm was, in moments of
intensity, lightened by gleams of fire. She
had Irish ancestors and red hair. Patty
alone listened with head erect and steely eyes.
The red blood of martyrs dyed her cheeks.
She was fighting for a CAUSE. Weak,
helpless, little Rosalie, sniffling at her elbow,
should be saved — the cowardice of her com-
rades put to shame. She, single-handed,
would fight and win.
Miss Lord finally drew breath.
" The class is dismissed. Patty will re-
main in the schoolroom until she has trans-
lated perfectly the last twenty lines. I will
hear her read them after luncheon."
The girls rose and pressed in a huddled
body toward the hall, while Patty turned into
the empty schoolroom. On the threshold
she paused to hurl one contemptuous word
oyer her shoulder:
"Scabs!"
The lunch bell rang, and Patty at her
desk in the empty schoolroom heard the girls
laughing and talking, as they clattered dowi?
83
Just Patty
the tin-covered back stairs to the dining-room.
She was very tired and very hungry. She
had had five hours of work since breakfast,
with only a glass of milk at eleven o'clock.
Even the pleasurable sensation of being
abused did not quite offset the pangs of hun-
ger. She listlessly set about learning the
morrow's lesson in French History. It dealt
with another martyr. Louis the Ninth left
his bones bleaching on the plains of Antioch.
The cause was different, but the principle re-
mained. If she was not to be fed until she
learned that Latin — very well — she would
leave her bones bleaching in the schoolroom
of St. Ursula's.
An insistent tapping sounded on the win-
dow. She glanced across an angle, to find
Osaki, the Japanese butler, leaning far out
from his pantry window, and extending to-
ward her a dinner plate containing a large,
lone slab of turkey.
" Leave plate in wastebasket, Missy," he
whispered hoarsely.
Patty, for an instant, struggled with dig-
nity and martyrdom, but hunger and a love of
The Virgil Strike
intrigue triumphed. She tiptoed over and
received the offering. There was no knife
or fork, but primitive methods suffice in a
case of real starvation. She finished the tur-
key and buried the plate beneath a pile of
algebra papers. It was Osaki's daily busi-
ness to empty the wastebasket; the plate in
due course would be restored to its shelf.
A few moments later a scurrying footfall
sounded at the door, and a little Junior A.
darted to Patty's side. She cast a conspira-
torial glance over her shoulder as she drew
from a bulging blouse two buttered rolls.
'* Take 'em quick! " she panted. " I must
hurry back, or they '11 suspect. I asked to
be excused to get a handkerchief. Keep up
your courage. We won't let you starve.
It's splendid!"
She thrust the rolls into Patty's lap and
vanished.
Patty found it comforting to know that the
school was with her. The attractions of
martyrdom are enhanced by the knowledge
of an audience. Also, the rolls were a grate-
ful addition to the turkey; her five-hour
85
Just Patty
appetite was still insistent. She finished1 one
of them and was about to begin on the sec-
ond, when furtive footfalls sounded behind
her, and one of the maids slipped a paper
plate over her shoulder.
" Here 's some fresh gingerbread, Miss
Patty. Cook says — "
The sound of a closing door startled her,
and she skurried off like a detected thief.
Patty placed her second roll in the waste-
basket in company with the turkey plate, and
was just starting on the gingerbread, when a
scrambling sounded at the end window. 'A
blue hat appeared momentarily over the sill,
its owner boosted from below, and an un-
identified hand sent an orange rolling down
the center aisle. Patty hastily intercepted
its course and dropped it into the wastebasket.
Luncheon would be over momentarily, and a
visit from Miss Lord was imminent. This
influx of supplies was growing embarrassing.
She heard the rising flood of talk as the
girls poured from the dining-room. She
knew that sympathetic groups were viewing
her from the open doors behind. Judging
86
The Virgil Strike
from the ceaseless shuffle of footsteps, all
Saint Ursula's had errands that led past the
schoolroom door. Patty did not cast a
glance behind, but with rigid shoulders stared
into space. Presently a rattling sounded
above her head. She raised startled eyes to
a register set in the ceiling, and saw Irene
McCullough's anxious face peering through
the opening.
" You can live for days on chocolates,"
came in a stage whisper. " I 'm awfully
sorry there 's only half a pound ; I ate the
rest last night."
The register was lifted out, and a box was
swiftly lowered by a string. Irene was chief
of the scabs.
;< Thank you, Irene," Patty returned in a
haughty stage whisper. " I do not care to
accept any — "
Miss Lord's voice became audible in the
hall.
"I thought, young ladies, that afternoon
recreation was to be spent out of doors? "
Patty just had time to snatch the box and
drop it into her lap, with an open essay book
Just Patty
above, when Miss Lord advanced into the
room. Patty's face assumed an air of suf-
fering stoicism, as she stared ahead, in the
profound hope that Irene would have sense
enough to remove eight feet of dangling
string. Miss Lord was followed by Osaki,
carrying a tray with two slices of dry bread
and a glass of water.
"Have you finished your Latin, Patty?"
" No, Miss Lord."
"Why not?"
" I am going to do to-morrow's lesson in
afternoon study hour."
Patty's tone was respectful, but her mean-
ing was clear. She emphasized slightly the
word " to-morrow."
" You will do the twenty lines immedi-
ately."
A speaking silence from Patty.
" Do you hear me ? "
" Yes, Miss Lord."
"Well?" The monosyllable was sharp
enough to cut.
" I stand by my principles," said Patty.
" I am not a scab."
88
Patty just had time to snatch the box
The Virgil Strike
" You may sit here until those twenty lines
are finished."
" Very well, Miss Lord."
" I do not wish you to suffer. Here is
bread and water."
She motioned Osaki to set down the tray.
Patty waved it aside.
" I am not a convict," she said with dig-
nity. " I refuse to eat until I am served
properly at the dining-room table."
A fleeting grin replaced for a moment
Osaki's Oriental calm. Miss Lord set the
bread on a neighboring desk, and the two
vdthdrew.
All through recreation and afternoon
study, Patty sat at her desk, the plate of
bread conspicuously untouched at her elbow.
Then the five-o'clock bell rang, and the girls
trooped out and dispersed on their various
businesses. The hour between afternoon
study and dressing bell, was the one hour of
the day entirely their own. Patty could hear
them romping up the back stairs, and racing
through the corridors. Kid McCoy was
conducting a pillow fight in Paradise Alley
80
just Patty
above her head. Groups passed the school-
room window with happy calls and laughter.
Pepper and Tabasco, the two riding horses,
were saddled and brought out. She could
see the girls taking turns in galloping around
the oval, while Martin, as ringmaster, waved
his whip and urged them on. Martin now
was bent with rheumatism, but in his far-off,
reckless youth he had been a cowboy, and
when he taught the girls to ride, it was with
a disregard of broken bones that dismayed
even the adventurous gymnasium teacher.
Patty was his star pupil; she could stick on
Red Pepper's back with nothing but a blanket
to hold her. It was only very occasionally,
when Martin was in a propitious mood, that
the horses were saddled for mere public
amusement. Patty's heart was sore as she
watched Priscilla and Conny, her two dearest
friends, disport themselves regardless of their
incarcerated mate.
It grew dusk; nobody came to furnish a
light, and Patty sat in the semi-darkness, her
head bent wearily on her arms. Finally she
heard footsteps in the hall, and Mi?s Sallie
90
The Virgil Strike
entered and closed the door behind her*
Patty braced herself anew; one needed keen
wits to match the " Dragonette."
Miss Sallie had been talking with Miss
Lord, and she was inclined to think that
Patty needed chastisement of a rare sort ; but
it was her practice to hear both sides. She
drew up a chair, and commenced with busi-
ness-like directness.
" See here, Patty, what is the meaning of
all this nonsense? "
Patty raised reproachful eyes.
" Nonsense, Miss Sallie?"
" Yes, nonsense ! Miss Lord says that
you refused to learn the lesson that she as-
signed, and that you incited the rest of the
girls to mutiny. You are one of the most
able pupils in the class, and your failure to
finish the lesson is nothing in the world but
stubbornness. If it were Rosalie Patton
now, there might be some sense in it."
" I don't think you understand," said
Patty gently.
" It might be well for you to explain," sug-
gested Miss Sallie.
Just Patty
" I must stand by my principles."
"By all means!" Miss Sallie affably
agreed. "And what are your principles?"
" To hold out for sixty lines of Virgil. It
is n't because I want to strike, Miss Sallie.
It would be much easier for me to do the
eighty lines, but that would n't be fair to Ro-
salie. The working day should not be
gaged by the capacity of the strongest. Miss
Lord will flunk Rosalie if the rest of us don't
take care of her. Upon the solidarity of
labor depends the welfare of the individual
worker. It is the fight of the oppressed
against the encroachments of — of — er —
organized authority."
" Um — I see ! — I really begin to believe
that you listened to that lecture, Patty."
" Of course I listened," Patty nodded,
" and I must say that I am awfully disap-
pointed in Miss Lord. She told us to apply
our knowledge of sociology to the problems
of our daily lives, and when we do, she backs
down. But anyway, we intend to maintain
the strike, until she is ready to meet our just
demands. It is n't through selfish motives
92
The Virgil Strike
that I am acting, Miss Sallie. I should a lot
rather have something to eat and go horse-
back riding. I am fighting for the cause of
my suffering sisters."
The ceiling above shook at the impact, as
four of her suffering sisters came down on
top of one another, while the walls resounded
with their shrieks and laughter.
Miss Sallie's lips twitched, but she con-
trolled herself and spoke with serious gravity.
" Very well, Patty, I am glad to know that
this unprecedented behavior is caused by
charitable motives. I am sure that when
Miss Lord fully understands the case she will
feel gratified. Suppose I act as intermediary
and lay the matter before her? We may
be able to arrive at an — er — compromise."
The half hour that followed dinner was
usually devoted to dancing in the big square
hall, but to-night the girls were inclined to
stand about in groups with furtive glances to-
ward the schoolroom. A conference was
going on inside. Miss Lord, the Dowager
and the Dragonette had passed in and shut
the door. Kid McCoy, returning from
93
Just Patty
Paradise Alley, where she had been stretched
on her stomach with her face to the regis-
ter, reported that Patty had fainted through
lack of food, that the Dowager had revived
her with whiskey, and that she had come
to, still cheering for the Union. Kid Mc-
Coy's statements, however, were apt to be
touched by imagination. The school was di-
vided in its opinion of Patty's course. The
scabs were inclined to make light of her
achievement, but Conny and Priscilla
staunchly fanned enthusiasm.
Finally, the schoolroom door opened, and
the faculty emerged and passed into the Dow-
ager's private study, while the dancing com-
menced with sudden fervor. No one to-day
liked to be caught by Miss Lord whispering
in a corner.
Patty followed alone. Her face was pale,
and there were weary circles about her eyes,
but in them shone the light of victory.
" Patty!"
"Are you dead?"
" How 5d it come out? "
" It was perfectly splendid ! "
94
The Virgil Strike
"Was she furious?"
"What did she say?"
" We arbitrated the question and have set-
tled on a compromise," Patty replied with
quiet dignity. " Hereafter the lesson will be
seventy lines. The Virgil strike is declared
off."
They pressed about her eager for details,
but she separated herself, and kept on toward
the dining-room door. There was an aloof-
ness about her, an air of having experienced
the heights alone. She was not quite ready
to rub shoulders with common humanity.
The school settled itself to evening study,
and Patty to her dinner. They could see her
across the court, through the lighted window,
as she sat in state at the end of a long table.
Osaki on one side, tendered preserved straw-
berries, and Maggie on the other, frosted
cakes. The rewards of martyrdom, in
Patty's case, were solidly substantial.
IV
The Third Man from
the End
IV
The Third Man from
the End
H, Patty! Did you bring us
some wedding cake? "
" Did you have any adven-
tures?"
Conny and Priscilla, with the dexterity of
practice, sprang upon the rear step of the
hearse as it turned in at the school gate, and
rolled up the curving drive to the porte-
cochere. The " hearse " was the popular
name for the black varnished wagonette
which conveyed the pupils of St. Ursula's
from church and station. It was planned to
accommodate twenty. Patty and her suit-
case, alone in the capacious interior, were
jolting about like two tiny peas in a very big
pod.
99
Just Patty
" Adventures ! " she called back excitedly.
" Wait till you hear! "
As they came to a stop, they were besieged
by a crowd of blue-coated girls. It was aft-
ernoon recreation, and the whole school was
abroad. The welcome that she received,
would have led an onlooker to infer that
Patty had been gone three months instead of
three days. She and her two postilions de-
scended, and Martin gathered up his reins.
" Come on, y ousel All who wants a ride
to the stables," was his hospitable invitation.
It inundated him with passengers. They
crowded inside — twice as many as the hearse
would hold — they swarmed over the driver's
seat and the steps ; and two equestriennes even
perched themselves on the horses* backs.
"What's the adventure?" demanded
Conny and Priscilla in a breath, as the caval-
cade rattled off.
Patty waved her hand toward the suit-
case.
" There it is. Take it upstairs. I '11 be
with you as soon as I Ve reported."
" But that is n't your suit-case."
100
The Third Man from the End
Patty shook her head mysteriously.
" If you tried a thousand years you 'd
never guess who owns it."
"Who?"
Patty laughed.
" Looks like a man's," said Conny.
" It is."
" Oh, Patty ! Don't be so exasperating.
[Where 'd you get it?"
" Just a little souvenir that I picked up.
I '11 tell you as soon as I Ve interviewed the
Dowager. Hurry, and slip in while Jelly
is n't looking."
They cast a quick glance over their shoul-
ders toward the gymnasium instructor, who
was arguing fat Irene McCullough into
faster movements on the tennis court. Miss
Jellings was insistent that " recreation "
should be actively pursued out of doors. The
two could easily have obtained permission to
greet Patty's return inside; but it was the
policy of the trio never to ask permission in
minor matters. It wasted one's credit un-
necessarily.
Priscilla and Conny turned upstairs lug-
101
Just Patty
ging the suit-case between them, while Patty
approached the principal's study. Ten min-
utes later she joined her companions in Seven,
Paradise Alley. They were sitting on the
bed, their chins in their hands, studying the
suit-case propped on a chair before them.
"Well?" they inquired in a breath.
" She says she 's glad to see me back, and
hopes I didn't eat too much wedding cake.
If my lessons show any falling off — "
"Who owns it?"
" The man with the black eyebrows and
the dimple in his chin who sang the funny
songs third from the end on the right hand
side."
"Jermyn Hilliard, Junior?" Priscilla
asked breathlessly.
" Not really? " Conny laid her hand on
her heart with an exaggerated sigh.
"Truly and honest!" Patty turned it
over and pointed to the initials on the end,
" J- H., Jr."
"It is his!" cried Priscilla.
" Where on earth did you get it, Patty? "
uls it locked?"
IO2
The Third Man from the End
" Yes," Patty nodded, " but my key opens
it."
''What's in it?"
" Oh, a dress suit, and collars, and — and
things."
" Where 'd you get it?"
" Well," said Patty languidly, " it 's a long
story. I don't know that I have time before
study hour — "
" Oh, tell us, please. I think you 're
beastly!"
" Well — the glee club was last Thursday
night."
They nodded impatiently at this useless
piece of information.
" And it was Friday morning that I left.
!As I was listening to the Dowager's parting
remarks about being inconspicuous and re-
flecting credit on the school by my nice man-
ners, Martin sent in word that Princess was
lame and couldn't be driven. So instead of
going to the station in the hearse, I went with
Mam'selle in the trolley car. When we got
in, it was cram full of men. The entire Yale
Glee Club was going to the station! There
103
Just Patty
were so many of them that they were sitting
in each other's laps. The whole top layer
rose, and said perfectly gravely and politely:
' Madame, take my seat.'
" Mam'selle was outraged. She said in
French, which of course they all understood,
that she thought American college boys had
disgraceful manners ; but I smiled a little —
I could n't help it, they were so funny. And
then two of the bottom ones offered their?
seats, and we sat down. And you '11 never
believe it, but the third man from the end
was sitting right next to me! "
"Not really?"
"Oh, Patty!"
u Is he as good-looking near to, as he was
on the stage?"
" Better."
" Are those his real eyebrows or were they
blacked?"
" They looked real but I could n't ex-
amine them closely."
" Of course they 're real ! " said Conny
indignantly.
"And what do you think?" Patty de*
104
The Third Man from the End
manded. " They were going on my train.
Did you ever hear of such a coincidence ? "
" What did Mam'selle think of that? "
" She was as flustered as an old hen with
one chicken. She put me in charge of the
conductor with so many instructions, that I
know he felt like a newly engaged nurse-
maid. The Glee Club men rode in the
smoking-car, except Jermyn Hilliard, Junior,
and he followed me right into the parlor
car and sat down in the chair exactly oppo-
site^
"Patty!" they cried in shocked chorus.
" You surely didn't speak to him? "
" Of course not. I looked out of the
window and pretended he was n't there."
"Oh!" Conny murmured disappointedly.
"Then what happened?" Priscilla asked.
" Nothing at all. I got out at Cooms*
dale, and Uncle Tom met me with the automo-
bile. The chauffeur took my suit-case fron|
the porter and I did n't see it near to at all.
We reached the house just at tea time, and
I went straight in to tea without going up-
stairs. The butler took up my suit-case and
105
Just Patty
the maid came and asked for the key so she
could unpack. That house is simply run-
ning over with servants ; I sin always scared
to death for fear I '11 do something that they
won't think is proper.
" All the ushers and bridesmaids were
there, and everything was very jolly, only
I could n't make out what they were talk-
ing about half the time, because they all knew
each other and had a lot of jokes I could n't
understand."
Conny nodded feelingly.
" That 's the way they acted at the seaside
last summer. I think grown people have
horrid manners."
" I did feel sort of young," Patty acknowl-
edged. " One of the men brought me some
tea and asked what I was studying in school.
He was trying to obey Louise and amuse
little cousin, but he was thinking all the time,
what an awful bore it was talking to a girl
with her hair braided."
" I told you to put it up," said Priscilla.
" Just wait ! " said Patty portentously.
14 When I went upstairs to dress for dinner,
106
The Third Man from the End
the maid met me in the hall with her eyes
popping out of her head.
" ' Beg pardon, Miss Patty,' she said.
* But is that your suit-case ? '
": * Yes,' I said, ' of course it 's my suit-
case. What's the matter with it?'
" She just waved her hand toward the
table and did n't say a word. And there it
was, wide open! "
Patty took a key from her pocket, un-
locked the suit-case, and threw back the lid.
A man's dress suit was neatly folded on the
top, with a pipe, a box of cigarettes, some
collars, and various other masculine trifles
filling in the interstices.
" Oh! " they gasped in breathless chorus.
" They belong to him," Conny murmured
fervently.
Patty nodded
"And when I showed Uncle Tom that
suit-case, he nearly died laughing. He tele-
phoned to the station, but they did n't know
anything about it, and I didn't know where
the glee club was going to perform, so we
could n't telegraph Mr. Hilliard. Uncle
107
Just Patty
Tom lives five miles from town, and there
simply was n't anything we could do that
night."
" And just imagine his feelings when he
started to dress for the concert, and found
Patty's new pink evening gown spread out on
top! " suggested Priscilla.
" Oh, Patty ! Do you s'pose he opened
it? " asked Conny.
" I 'm afraid he did. The cases are
exact twins, and the keys both seem to fit."
"I hope it looked all right?"
" Oh, yes, it looked beautiful. Every-
thing was trimmed with pink ribbon. I at/
ways pack with an eye to the maid, when I
visit Uncle Tom."
" But the dinner and the wedding? What
did you do without your clothes ? " asked
Priscilla, in rueful remembrance of many
trips to the dressmaker's.
"That was the best part of it!" Patty
affirmed. " Miss Lord simply would n't
let me get a respectable evening gown. She
went with me herself, and told Miss Pringle
how to make it — just like all my dancing
108
The Third Man from the End
dresses, nine inches off the floor, with elbow
sleeves and a silly sash. I hated it anyway."
" You must remember you are a school
girl," Conny quoted, "and until — "
"Just wait till I tell you!" Patty tri-
umphed. " Louise brought me one of her
dresses — one of her very best ball gowns,
only she was n't going to wear it any more,
because she had all new clothes in her trous-
seau. It was white crepe embroidered in
gold spangles, and it had a train. It was
long in front, too. I had to walk without
lifting my feet. The maid came and dressed
me; she did my hair up on top of my head
with a gold fillet, and Aunt Emma loaned me
a pearl necklace and some long gloves and I
looked perfectly beautiful — I did, honestly
' — you would n't have known me. I looked
at least twenty!
"The man who took me in to dinner
never dreamed that I hadn't been out for
years. And you know, he tried to flirt with
me, he did, really. And he was getting aw-
fully old. He must have been almost forty.
I felt as though I were flirting with my grand-
IOQ
Just Patty
father. You know," Patty added, " it isn't
so bad, being grown up. I believe you
really do have sort of a good time — if
you 're pretty."
Six eyes sought the mirror for a reflective
moment, before Patty resumed her chronicle.
" And Uncle Tom made me tell about the
suit-case at the dinner table. Everybody
laughed. It made a very exciting story. I
told them about the whole school going to
the Glee Club, and falling in love in a body
with the third man from the end, and how
we all cut his picture out of the program and
pasted it in our watches. And then about
my sitting across from him in the train and
changing suit-cases. Mr. Harper — the
man next to me — said it was the most ro-
mantic thing he'd ever heard in his life;
that Louise's marriage was nothing to it."
" But about the suit-case," they prompted.
"Didn't you do anything more?"
" Uncle Tom telephoned again in the
morning, and the station agent said he 'd got
the party on the wire as had the young lady's
case. And he was coming back here in two
no
The Third Man from the End
days, and I was to leave his suit-case with
the baggage man at the station, and he would
leave mine."
" But you did n't leave it."
" I came on the other road. I 'm going
to send it down."
" And what did you wear at the wed-
ding?"
" Louise's clothes. It did n't matter a
bit, my not matching the other bridesmaids,
because I was maid of honor, and ought to
dress differently anyway. I 've been grown
up for three days — and I just wish Miss
Lord could have seen me with my hair on the
top of my head talking to men ! "
" Did you tell the Dowager? "
" Yes, I told her about getting the wrong
suit-case; I didn't mention the fact that it
belonged to the third man from the end."
" What did she say?"
" She said it was very careless of me to
run off with a strange man's luggage; and
she hoped he was a gentleman and would
take it nicely. She telephoned to the bag-
gage man that it was here, but she could n't
in
Just Patty
send Martin with it this afternoon because
he had to go to the farm for some eggs,"
Recreation was over, and the girls came
trooping in to gather books and pads and
pencils for the approaching study hour.
Everyone who passed number Seven dropped
in to hear the news. Each in turn received
the story of the suit-case, and each in turn
gasped anew at sight of the contents.
" Does n't it smell tobaccoey and bay rum-
mish? " said Rosalie Patton, ecstatically snif-
fing.
" Oh, there 's a button loose ! " cried Flor-
ence Hissop, the careful housewife.
11 Where 's some black silk, Patty? "
She threaded a needle and secured the
button. Then she daringly tried on the
coat. Eight others followed her example
and thrilled at the touch. It was calculated
to fit a far larger person than any present.
Even Irene McCullough found it baggy.
" He had awfully broad shoulders," said
Rosalie, stroking the satin lining.
They peered daintily at the other gar-
ments.
112
The Third Man from the End
" Oh ! " squealed Mae Mertelle. " He
wears blue silk suspenders."
" And something else blue," chirped Edna
Hartwell, peering over her shoulder.
;< They 're pajamas ! "
11 And to think of such a thing happening
to Patty! " sighed Mae Mertelle.
".Why not?" bristled Patty.
1 You 're so young and so — er — "
" Young ! — Wait till you see me with
my hair done up."
" I wonder what the end will be? " asked
Rosalie.
" The end," said Mae unkindly, " will be
that the baggage man will deliver the suit-
case, and Jermyn Hilliard, Junior, will never
know — "
A maid appeared at the door.
" If you please," she murmured, her
amazed eyes on Irene who was still wearing
the coat, " Mrs. Trent would like to have
Miss Patty Wyatt come to the drawing-
room, and I am to take the suit-case down.
3The gentleman is waiting."
113
Just Patty
"Oh, Patty I" a gasp went around the
room.
11 Do your hair up — quick ! "
Priscilla caught Patty's twin braids and
wound them around her head, while the oth-
ers in a flutter of excitement, thrust in the
coat and relocked the suit-case.
They crowded after her in a body and
hung over the banisters at a perilous angle,
straining their ears in the direction of the
drawing-room. Nothing but a murmur of
voices floated up, punctuated by an occa-
sional deep bass laugh. When they heard
the front door close, with one accord they
invaded Harriet Gladden's room, which com-
manded the walk, and pressed their noses
against the pane. A short, thick-set man of
German build was waddling toward the gate
and the trolley car. They gazed with wide,
horrified eyes, and turned without a word to
meet Patty as she trudged upstairs lugging
her errant suit-case. A glance told her that
they had seen, and dropping on the top step,
she leaned her head against the railing and
laughed.
114
The Third Man from the End
" His name," she choked, " is John
Hochstetter, Jr. He 's a wholesale grocer,
and was on his way to a grocers' convention,
where he was to make a speech comparing
American cheese with imported cheese. He
didn't mind at all not having his dress suit
— never feels comfortable in it anyway, he
says. He explained to the convention why
he did n't have it on, and it made the fun-
niest speech of the evening. There 's the
study bell."
Patty rose and turned toward Paradise
Alley, but paused to throw back a further
detail :
u He has a dear little daughter of his own
just my age ! "
V
The Flannigan Honey-
moon
The Flannigan Honey-
moon
M
iff jpyp
HE Murphy family, with a
judicious eye to the buttered
side of the bread, had adopted
Saint Ursula as their patron
saint. (The family — consisting of Mr. and
Mrs. Patrick Murphy, eleven little Murphys
and " Gramma " Flannigan — occupied a
five-room cottage close to the gates of St.
Ursula's school. They subsisted on the vi-
carious charity of sixty-four girls, and the
intermittent labor of Murphy pere, who, in
his sober intervals, was a sufficiently efficient
stone-cutter and mason.
He had built the big entrance gates, and
the long stone wall that caclosed the ten
acres of " bounds." He kad laid the foun-
119
Just Patty
dation of the new west wing — known as
Paradise Alley — and had constructed all
the chimneys and driveways and tennis courts
on the place. The school was a monument
to his long and leisurely career.
Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, with an unusual
display of foresight, had christened their
first baby after the school. Ursula Murphy
may not be a euphuistic combination, but the
child was amply repaid for carrying such a
name, by receiving the cast-off clothes of gen-
erations of St. Ursula girls. There was dan-
ger, for a time, that the poor little thing
would be buried beneath a mountain of wear-
ing apparel; but her parents providentially
discovered a second-hand clothes man, who
relieved her of a part of the burden.
After Ursula, had come other little
Murphys in regular succession; and it had
grown to be one of the legendary privileges
of the school to furnish the babies with
names and baptismal presents. Mrs. Mur-
phy was not entirely mercenary in her yearly
request. She appreciated the artistic quality
of the names that the girls provided. They
1 20
The Flannigan Honeymoon
had a distinction, that she herself, with her
lack of literary training, would never have
been able to give. The choosing of the
names had come to be a matter involving
politics almost as complicated as the election
of the senior president. Different factions
proposed different names ; half-a-dozen tickets
would be in the field, and the balloting was
conducted with rousing speeches.
There was one hampering restriction.
Every baby must have a patron saint. Upon
this point, the Murphys stood firm. How-
ever, by a careful study of early Christian
martyrs, the girls had managed to unearth
a list of recondite saints with fairly unusual
and picturesque names.
So far, the role of the Murphy offspring
read:
Ursula Marie, Geraldine Sabina, Muriel
Veronica and Lionel Ambrose ( twins )»
Aileen Clotilda, John Drew Dominick, Del-
phine Olivia, Patrick (he had been born in
the summer vacation, and the long-suffering
priest had insisted that the boy be named
for his father), Sidney Orlando Boniface,
121
Just Patty
Richard Harding Gabriel, Yolanda Gene-
vieve. This completed the list, until one
morning early in December, Patrick Senior
presented himself at the kitchen door, with
the news that another name — a boy's —
would be seasonable.
The school immediately went into a com-
mittee of the whole. Several names had
been put up, and the discussion was growing
heated, when Patty Wyatt jumped to her
feet with the proposal of " Cuthbert St.
John." The suggestion was met with
cheers; and Mae Van Arsdale indignantly
left the room. The name was carried by
unanimous vote.
Cuthbert St. John Murphy was christened
the following Sunday, and received a gold-
lined porridge spoon in a green plush box.
So delighted was the school at Patty's
felicitous suggestion, that, by way of re-
ward, they elected her chairman of the Christ-
mas Carnival Committee. The Christmas
Carnival was a charitable institution con-
temporaneous with the founding of the
school. St. Ursula's scheme of education
122
The Flannigan Honeymoon
was broad; it involved growth in a wide
variety of womanly virtues, and the greatest
of these was charity. Not the modern,
scientific, machine-made charity, but the com-
fortable, old-fashioned kind that leaves a
pleasant glow of generosity in the heart of
the giver. Every year at Christmastide a
tree was decked, a supper laid, and the poor
children of the neighborhood bidden to par-
take. The poor children were collected by
the school girls, who drove about from house
to house, in bob-sleighs or hay-wagons, ac-
cording to the snow. The girls regarded it
as the most diverting festival of the school
year; and even the poor children, when they
had overcome their first embarrassment,
found it fairly diverting.
The original scheme had been for eacK
girl to have an individual protege, that she
might call upon the family and come into
personal relations with a humbler class. She
was to learn the special needs of her child,
and give something really useful, such as
stockings or trousers or flannel petticoats.
It was an admirable scheme on paper, but
123
Just Patty
in actual practice it fell down. St. Ursula's
was situated in an affluent district given over
to the estates of the idle rich, and the prol-
etarian who clung to the skirts of these es-
tates was amply provided with an opportu-
nity to work. In the early days, when the
school was small, there had been sufficient
poor children to go round; but as St. Ur-
sula's had grown, the poor seemed to have
diminished, until now the school was con-
fronted by an actual scarcity. But the Mur-
phys, at least, they had always with them.
They yearly offered thanks for this.
Patty accepted her chairmanship and ap-
pointed sub-committees to do the actual
work. For herself and Conny and Priscilla
she reserved the privilege of choosing the
recipients of St. Ursula's bounty. This en-
tailed several exhilarating afternoons out
of bounds. A walk abroad is as inspiring to
the inmates of a prison as a trip through
Europe to those at large. They spent the
better part of a week canvassing the neigh-
borhood, only to reveal the embarrassing fact
that there were nine possible children, aside
124
The Flannigan Honeymoon
from the Murphy brood, and that none of
these nine were from homes that one could
conscientiously term poor. The children's
sober industrious parents could well supply
their temperate Christmas demands.
" And there are only six Murphys the
right age," Conny grumbled, as they turned
homewards in the cold twilight of a wintry
day, after an unprofitable two hours' tramp.
" That makes about one child to every
five girls," Priscilla nodded dismally.
" Oh, this charity business makes me
tired!" Patty burst out. "It's fun for
the girls, and nothing else. The way we
dole out stuff to perfectly nice people, is just
plain insulting. If anybody poked a pink
tarlatan stocking full of candy at me, and
said it was because I 'd been a good little
girl, I 'd throw it in their face."
In moments of intensity, Patty's English
was not above reproach.
" Come on, Patty," Priscilla slipped a
soothing hand through her arm, " we '11 stop
in at the Murphys' and count 'em over again.
Maybe there 's one we overlooked."
125
Just Patty
" The twins are only fifteen," said Conny
hopefully. " I think they '11 do."
" And Richard Harding 's nearly four.
He 's old enough to enjoy a tree. The more
Murphys we can get the better. They al-
ways love the things we give."
"I know they do!" Patty growled.
" We 're teaching the whole lot of them to
be blooming beggars — I shall be sorry I
ever used any slang, if we can't put the money
to better use than this."
The funds for the carnival were yearly
furnished by a tax on slang. St. Ursula de-
manded a fine of one cent for every instance
of slang or bad grammar let fall in public.
Of course, in the privacy of one's own room,
in the bosom of one's chosen family, the rigor
was relaxed. Your dearest friends did not
report you — except in periods of estrange-
ment. But your acquaintances and enemies
and teachers did, and even, in moments of
intense honorableness, you reported yourself.
In any case, the slang fund grew. When the
committee had opened the box this year, they
126
The Flannigan Honeymoon
found thirty-seven dollars and eighty-four
cents.
Patty allowed herself, after some slight
protest, to be drawn to the door of the Mur-
phy domicile. She was not in an affable
mood, and a call upon the Murphys required
a great deal of conversation. They found
the family hilariously assembled in an over-
crowded kitchen. The entire dozen chil-
dren babbled at once, shriller and shriller,
in a vain endeavor to drown each other out.
A cabbage stew, in progress on the stove,
filled the room with an odorous steam.
Shoved into a corner of the hearth, was poor
old Gramma Flannigan, surrounded by
noisy, pushing youngsters, who showed her
gray hairs but scant consideration. The:
girls admired the new baby, while Yolanda.
and Richard Harding crawled over their-
laps with sticky hands. Mrs. Murphy,,
meanwhile, discanted in a rich brogue upon;
the merits of " Coothbert St. Jawn " as at
name. She liked it, she declared, as well as
any in the list. It sure ought to bring luck
127
Just Patty
to a child to carry the name of two saints*
She thanked the young ladies kindly.
Patty left Conny and Priscilla to carry
off the social end of the call, while she
squeezed herself onto the woodbox by
Gramma Flannigan's chair. Mrs. Mur-
phy's mother was a pathetic old body, with
the winning speech and manners of Ireland
a generation ago. Patty found her the most
remunerative member of the household, so
far as interest went. She always liked to
get her started with stories of her girlhood,
when she had been a lady's maid in Lord
Stirling's castle in County Clare, and young
Tammas Flannigan came and carried her
off to America to help make his fortune.
Tammas was now a bent old man with rheu-
matism, but in his keen blue eyes and Irish
smile, Gramma still saw the lad who had
courted her.
" How 's your husband this winter? "
Patty asked, knowing that she was taking
the shortest road to the old woman's heart.
She shook her head with a tremulous
smile.
128
The Flannigan Honeymoon
" I 'm not hearin' for four days. Tammas
ain*t livin' with- us no more."
"It's a pity for you to be separated!'*
said Patty, with quick sympathy, not realiz-
ing on how sore a subject she was touching.
The flood gates of the old woman's gar-
rulity broke down.
" With Ursuly an' Ger-r-aldine growin'
oop an' havin' young min to wait on thim,
'twas needin' a parlor they was, an' they
could n't spare the room no longer for me 'n
Tammas. So they put me in the garret with
the four gurrls, an' Tammas, he was sint
oop the road to me son Tammas. Tam-
mas's wife said as Tammas could sleep in
the kitchen to pay for carryin' the wood an'
watter, but she could n't take us both be-
cause she takes boarders."
Patty cocked her head for a moment of
silence, as she endeavored to pluck sense
from this tangle of Tammases.
" It's too bad! " she comforted, laying a
sympathetic hand on the old woman's knee.
Gramma Flannigan's eyes filled with the
ready tears of old age.
9 129
Just Patty
" 1 'm not complaining for it 's the way
v' the world. The owld must step off, an'
make room for the young. But it 's lonely
I am without him ! We Ve lived together
for forty-seven years, an' we know each oth-
er's ways."
" But your son does n't live very far
away." Patty offered what solace she
might. " You must see Thomas very often."
"That an' I don't! You might as well
have a husband dead, as a mile an' a half
away an' laid oop with rheumatism."
The clock pointed to a quarter of six, and
the visitors rose. They had still to walk
half a mile and dress before dinner.
The old woman clung to Patty's hand at
parting. She seemed to find more comfort
in the little stray sympathy that Patty had
offered, than in all her exuberant brood of
grandchildren.
" Is n't it dreadful to be old, and just sit
around waiting to die?" Patty shuddered,
as they faced the cold darkness outside.
41 Dreadful ! " Conny cordially agreed.
130
The Flannigan Honeymoon
" Hurry up I Or we '11 be late for dinner,
and this is chicken night. "
{ They turned homeward at a jog trot that
left little breath for speech; but Patty's mind
was working as fast as her legs.
" I Ve got a perfectly splendid idea/' she
panted as she turned in at the gate and
trotted up the driveway toward the big
lighted house that spread wide wings to re-
ceive them.
"What?" they asked.
The quick insistent clang of the gong
floated out to meet them, and on the instant,
hurrying figures flitted past the windows —
the summons to meals brought a readier re-
sponse than the summons to study.
" I '11 tell you after dinner. No time
now," Patty returned as she peeled off her
coat.
They were unlacing their blouses as they
clattered up the back stairs, and pulling them
over their heads in the upper hall.
"Go slow — please!" they implored of
the down-going procession whose track they
Just Patty
crossed. Dinner was the only meal which
might be. approached by the front stairs,
which were carpeted instead of tinned.
Their evening frocks were fortunately in
one piece, and they dove into them with lit-
tle ceremony. The three presented them-
selves flushed of cheek and somewhat
rumpled as to hair, but properly gowned and
apologetic, just as grace was ended. To be
late for grace only meant one demerit; the
first course came higher, and the second
higher still. Punishment increased by geo-
metrical progression.
During the half hour's intermission be-
fore evening study, the three separated them-
selves from the dancers in the hall, and with-
drew to a corner of the deserted schoolroom.
Patty perched herself on a desk, and
loudly stated her feelings.
" I 'm tired of having the Dowager get
up at prayers, and make a speech about the
beautiful Christmas spirit, and how sweet
it is to make so many little children happy,
when she knows perfectly well that it 's just
132
The Flannigan Honeymoon
a lark for us. I 'm chairman this year and
I can do as I please. I 've had enough of
this fake charity ; and I 'm not going to have
any Christmas tree I "
" No Christmas tree?" Conny echoed
blankly.
" But what are you going to do with the
thirty-seven dollars and eighty- four cents? "
asked Priscilla, the practical.
" Listen ! " Patty settled to her argument.
;t There are n't any children around here who
need a blessed thing, but Gramma and
Granpa Flannigan do. That poor old
woman, who is just as nice as she can be, is
crowded in with all those horrid, yelling,
sticky little Murphys; and Granpa Flanni-
gan is poked into Tammas Junior's kitchen,
running errands for Tammas Junior's wife,
who is a per-fect-ly terrible woman. She
throws kettles when she gets mad. Gramma
worries all the time for fear he has rheuma-
tism, and nobody to rub on liniment, or make
him wear the right underclothes. They Ve
exactly as fond of each other as any other
133
Just Patty
husband and wife, and just because Ursula
wants to have callers, I say it 's a mean
shame for them to be separated 1"
" It is too bad," Conny agreed impar-
tially. " But I don't see that we can help it."
" Why, yes ! Instead of having a Christ-
mas tree, we '11 rent that empty little cottage
down by the laurel walk, and mend the chim-
ney — Patrick can do that for nothing —
and put in new windows, and furnish it, and
set them up in housekeeping."
" Do you think we can do it for thirty-
seven dollars and eighty-four cents?" Pris-
cilla asked.
'That's where the charity comes in!
Every girl in school will go without her al-
lowance for two weeks. Then we '11 have
more than a hundred dollars, and you can
furnish a house perfectly beautifully for
that. And it would be real charity to give
up our allowances, because they are particu-
larly useful at Christmas time."
" But will the girls want to give their al-
lowances?"
" We '11 fix it so they '11 have to," said
134
The Flannigan Honeymoon
Patty. " We '11 call a mass meeting and
make a speech. Then everybody will file
past and sign a paper. No one will dare re-
fuse with the school looking on."
Patty's fire kindled an answering flame
in the other two.
" It is a good idea ! " Conny declared.
" And it would be a lark, fixing the house,"
said Priscilla. " Almost as much fun as get-
ting married ourselves."
" Exactly," Patty nodded. " Those poor
old things have n't had a chance to see each
other alone for years. We '11 give 'em a
honeymoon all over again."
Patty was outwardly occupied with geom-
etry the next hour, but her mind was busy
hemming sheets and towels and tablecloths.
It being Thursday evening, the hour between
eight and nine was occupied with " manners."
The girls took turns in coming gracefully
downstairs, entering the drawing-room, an-
nounced by Claire du Bois in the role of
footman, and shaking hands with their hos-
tesses — Conny Wilder, as dowager mama,
and towering above her, as debutante daugb-
135
Just Patty
ter, Irene McCullough, the biggest girl in
the school. The gymnasium teacher who
assigned the roles, had a sense of humor.
An appropriate remark was expected from
each guest, the weather being barred.
" Mrs. Wilder!" Priscilla gushed, ad-
vancing with outstretched hand, " and dear
little Irene ! It does n't seem possible that
the child is actually grown. It was only
yesterday that she was a mite of a thing tod-
dling about — "
Priscilla was shoved on by Patty.
" Me dear Mrs. Wilder," she inquired in
a brogue that would have put the Murphys
to shame, " have ye heard the news that 's
goin' round? Mr. and Mrs. Tammas Flan-
nigan have taken the Laurel Cottage for the
season. They are thinkin' of startin' a sa-
lon. They will be at home ivery afternoon
during recreation hour — and will serve
limonade and gingerbread in summer, andj
soup and sandwiches in winter. Ye must
take Irene to call on thim.''
The moment " manners " was over, the
three withdrew to the seclusion of Patty's
136
The Flannigan Honeymoon
and Conny's room in Paradise Alley, and
closed the door against callers. Between
nine and nine-thirty was the fashionable
calling hour at St. Ursula's. The time was
supposed to be occupied in getting ready for
bed, but if one were clever about undressing
in the dark, one might devote the thirty min-
utes to social purposes.
" Gone to sleep ! Don't disturb us ! " the
placard read that they impaled upon the
door, but the clatter of tongues inside belied
the words.
" Is n't my idea fine about the lemonade
and soup? " Patty demanded.
" The great thing about charity is not to
make it charity. You must keep people self-
supporting," Priscilla quoted from their last
lesson in sociology.
"We'll fix little tables under the apple
tree in summer and in the parlor in winter,"
Patty planned, " and all the school girls and
automobiles will stop for lemonade. We '11
charge the girls five cents a glass and the auto-
mobiles ten."
" And I say, let 's make Patrick and Tam«
137
Just Patty
mas each contribute a dollar a week toward
their support," Conny proposed. " They
must eat up a dollar's worth of potatoes as
they are living now."
They continued planning in whispers until
long after "lights-out" had rung; and Pris-
cilla, in a laudable desire to be inconspicuous,
was obliged to crawl on hands and knees past
Mademoiselle's open door, before she gained
her own room at the end of the corridor.
The moment recreation sounded the next
afternoon, they obtained permission to be out
of bounds, and set off at a brisk trot. It was
their businesslike intention to have all the sta-
tistics complete, before submitting the matter
to the assembled school.
" We '11 first call on Patrick and Tamma*
and make 'em promise the dollar," said
Patty.
Patrick readily promised his dollar — Pat-
rick was always strong in promises — and the
girls proceeded gaily to Tammas Junior's.
They found Granpa on the back doorstep
anxiously wiping his feet; he was a tremulou*
reed that bowed before erery blast of the
138
The Flannigan Honeymoon
daughter-in-law's tongue. Tammas Junior,
after being taken aside and told the project,
thought he could manage two dollars a week.
An expression of relief momentarily took the
hunted look from his eyes. He was clearly
glad to rescue his father from the despotic
rule of his wife.
The girls turned away with their minds
made up. It only remained to secure the
cottage, coerce the school, and hem the
sheets.
" You go and price furniture and wall pa-
per," Patty issued her orders, " while I see
about the rent. We '11 meet at the soda-
water fountain."
She found the real-estate man who owned
the cottage established in an office over the
bank; and by what she considered rare busi-
ness ability, beat him down from nine dollars
a month to seven. This stroke accomplished,
she intimated her readiness for the lease.
" A lease will not be necessary," he said.
" A month to month verbal agreement will
do."
" I can't consider it without a lease," said
139
Just Patty
Patty, firmly. " You might sell or some-
thing, and then we 'd have to move out."
The gentleman amusedly filled in the form,
and signed as party of the first part. He
passed the pen to Patty and indicated the space
reserved for the signature of the party of the
second part.
" I must first consult my partners," she ex-
plained.
" Oh, I see ! Have them sign here, and
then bring the lease back."
" All of them? " she asked, dubiously scan-
ning the somewhat cramped quarters. " I 'm
afraid there won't be room."
" How many partners have you? "
" Sixty-three.'*
He stared momentarily, then as his eye fell
on the embroidered " St. U." on Patty's coat
sleeve, he threw back his head and laughed.
" I beg your pardon ! " he apologized, " but
I was a bit staggered for a moment. I am
not used to doing business on such a large
scale. In order to be legal," he gravely ex-
plained, " the paper will have to be signed
by all of the parties to the contract. If there
140
The Flannigan Honeymoon
is not enough room, you might paste on an
er— "
" Annex? " suggested Patty.
" Exactly," he agreed and with grave po-
liteness bowed her out.
As the bell rang that indicated the end of
study that evening, Patty and Conny and Pris-
cilla jumped to their feet, and called a mass
meeting of the school. The door was closed
after the retreating Miss Jellings, and for
half an hour the three made speeches sep-
arately and in unison. They were persuasive
talkers and they carried the day. The allow-
ance was voted with scarcely a dissenting
voice, and the school filed past and signed
the lease.
For two weeks St. Ursula's was a busy
place — and also Laurel Cottage. Bounds
were practically enlarged to include it. The
girls worked in gangs during every recreation
hour. The cellar was whitewashed by a com-
mittee of four, who went in blue, and came
out speckled like a plover's egg. Tammas
Junior had volunteered for this job, but it
was one the girls could not relinquish. They
141
Just Patty
did allow him to kalsomine the ceilings and
hang the wall paper; but they painted the
floors and the lower reaches of woodwork
themselves. The evening's hour of recrea-
tion no longer found them dancing, but sitting
in a solid phalanx on the stairs hemming
sheets and tablecloths. The house was to be
furnished with a completeness that poor Mrs.
Flannigan, in all her married life, had never
known before.
When everything was finished, the day be-
fore the holidays, the school in a body wiped
its feet on the door-mat and tiptoed through
on a last visit of inspection. The cottage
contained three rooms, with a cellar and wood-
shed besides. The wall paper and chintz
hangings of the parlor were flaming pink
peonies with a wealth of foliage — a touch
flamboyant for some tastes, but Granpa'a
and Gramma's eyes were failing, and they
liked strong colors. Also, crafty questioning
had elicited the fact that " pinies " were
Gramma's favorite flower. The kitchen had
turkey-red curtains with a cheerful strip of
rag carpet and two comfortable easy chairs
142
The Flannigan Honeymoon
before the hearth. The cellar was generously
stocked from the school farm — Miss Sal-
lie's contribution — with potatoes and cab-
bages and carrots and onions, enough to make
Irish stew for three months to come. The
woodbin was filled, and even a five-gallon can
of kerosene. Sixty-four pairs of eyes had
scanned the rooms minutely to make sure that
no essential was omitted.
Both the Murphy and Flannigan house-
holds had been agog for days over the pro-
posed flitting of the pair. Even Mrs. Tam-
mas had volunteered to wash the windows of
the new cottage, and for a week she had
scarcely been cross. The old man was al-
ready wondering at life. When the time ar-
rived, Mrs. Murphy secretly packed Gram-
ma's belongings and dressed her in her best,
under the pretext that she was to be taken in
a carriage to a Christmas party to have supper
with her husband. The old woman was in
a happy flutter at the prospect. Granpa
was prepared for the journey by the same sim-
ple strategy.
Patty and Conny and Priscilla, as orig-
143
Just Patty
inators of the enterprise, had been appointed
to install the old couple ; but with tactful for-
bearance, they delegated the right to the son
and daughter. They saw that the fires were
burning, the lamps lighted, and the cat —
there was even a cat — asleep on the hearth
rug; then when the sound of carriage wheels
in front told them that Martin had arrived
with his passengers, they quietly slipped out
the back way and jogged home to dinner
through the snowy dusk.
They were met by a babel of questions.
' Was Gramma pleased with the parlor
clock?"
" Did she know what to do with the chaf-
ing-dish?"
'* Were they disappointed at not having a
feather bed?"
" Did they like the cat, or would they rather
have had a parrot? " (The school had been
torn asunder on this important point.)
At the dinner table that night — such of
the school as was left — chattered only of
Laurel Cottage. They were as excited over
Gramma and Granpa's happiness, as over
144
The Flannigan Honeymoon
their own approaching holiday. All sixty-four
were planning to drink tea, on the first day
of their return, from Gramma's six cups.
i Toward nine o'clock, Patty and Priscilla,
by a special dispensation that allowed late
hours in vacation, received permission to ac-
company Conny and ten other dear friends
to the station for the western express. Driv-
ing back alone in the " hearse," still bubbling
with the hilarity of Christmas farewells, they
passed the Laurel Cottage.
" I believe they Jre still up ! " said Priscilla.
" Let 's stop and wish 'em a Merry Christ-
mas, just to make sure they like it."
Martin was readily induced to halt ; his dis-
cipline also was relaxed in vacation. They
approached the door, but hesitated at sight of
the picture revealed by the lighted window.
To interrupt with the boisterous greetings of
the season, seemed like rudely breaking in
upon the seclusion of lovers. Only a glance
was needed to tell them that the house-warm-
ing was successful. Gramma and Granpa
were sitting before the fire in their comforta-
ble red-cushioned rocking-chairs; the lamp
145
Just Patty
shed a glow on their radiant faces, as they
held each other's hands and smiled into the
future.
Patty and Priscilla tiptoed away and
climbed back into the hearse, a touch sobered
and thoughtful.
" You know," Patty pondered, " they are
just as contented as if they lived in a palace
with a million dollars and an automobile!
It's funny, isn't it, what a little thing
makes some people happy? "
'146
VI
The Silver Buckles
yi
The Silver Buckles
O be cooped up for three week®
with the two stupidest girls in
the school — "
" Kid McCoy is n't so bad,"
said Conny consolingly.
" She 's a horrid little tomboy."
" But you know she 's entertaining, Patty."
" She never says a word that is n't slang,
and / think she 's the limit! "
" Well, anyway, Harriet Gladden — "
" Is perfectly dreadful and you know it.
I would just as soon spend Christmas with a
weeping angel on a tombstone."
" She is pretty mournful," Priscilla agreed.
" I Ve spent three Christmases with her.
But anyway, you '11 have fun. You can be
late for meals whenever you want, and Nora
lets you make candy on the kitchen stove."
149
Just Patty
Patty sniffed disdainfully as she commenced
the work of resettling her room, after the
joyous upheaval of a Christmas packing. The
other two assisted in silent sympathy. There
was after all not much comfort to be offered.
School in holiday time was a lonely substitute
for home. Priscilla, whose father was a
naval officer, and whose home was a peripa-
tetic affair, had become inured to the experi-
ence; but this particular year, she was gaily
setting out to visit cousins in New York —
with three new dresses and , two new hats!
And Patty, whose home was a mere matter
of two hours in a Pullman car, was to be left
behind; for six-year old Thomas Wyatt had
chosen this inopportune time to come down
with scarlet fever. The case was of the light-
est; Master Tommy was sitting up in bed and
occupying himself with a box of lead soldiers.
But the rest of the family were not so com-
fortable. Some were quarantined in, and the
others out. Judge Wyatt had installed him-
self in a hotel and telegraphed the Dowager
to keep Patty at St. Ursula's during the holi-
days. Poor Patty had been happily packing
150
The Silver Buckles
her trunk when the news arrived; and as she
unpacked it, she distributed a few excusable
tears through the bureau drawers.
Ordinarily, a number remained for the holi-
days,— girls whose homes were in the West
or South, or whose parents were traveling
abroad or getting divorces — but this year the
assortment was unusually meager. Patty was
left alone in " Paradise Alley." Margarite
McCoy, of Texas, was stranded at the end of
the South Corridor, and Harriet Gladden of
Nowhere, had a suite of eighteen rooms at
her disposal in " Lark Lane." These and
four teachers made up the household.
Harriet Gladden had been five years
straight at St. Ursula's — term time and va-
cations without a break. She came a lanky
little girl of twelve, all legs and arms, and she
was now a lanky big girl of seventeen, still all
legs and arms. An invisible father, at inter-
vals mentioned in the catalogue, mailed checks
to Mrs. Trent; and beyond this made no sign.
Poor Harriet was a mournful, silent, neg-
lected child ; entirely out of place in the effer-
vescing life that went on around her.
Just Patty
She never had any birthday boxes from
home, never any Christmas presents, except
those that came from the school. While the
other girls were clamoring for mail, Harriet
stood in the background silent and unex-
pectant. Miss Sallie picked out her clothes,
and Miss Sallie's standards were utilitarian
rather than esthetic. Harriet, with no ex-
ception, was the worst dressed girl in the
school. Even her school uniform, which was
an exact twin of sixty-three other uniforms,
hung upon her with the grace of a meal-bag.
Miss Sallie, with provident foresight, always
ordered them a size too large in order to al-
low her to grow and Harriet invariably wore
them out, before she had established a fit.
" What on earth becomes of Harriet Glad-
den during vacation?" Priscilla once won-
dered on the opening day.
" They keep her on ice through the sum-
mer," was Patty's opinion, " and she never
gets entirely thawed out."
As a matter of fact this was, as nearly as
possible, what they did do with her. Miss
Sallie picked out a quiet, comfortable, healthy
152
The Silver Buckles
farmhouse, and installed Harriet in charge of
the farmer's wife. By the end of three
months she was so desperately lonely, that she
looked forward with pleasurable excitement
to the larger isolation of term time.
Patty, one day, had overheard two of the
teachers discussing Harriet, and her reported
version had been picturesque.
" Her father has n't seen her for years and
years. He just chucks her in here and pays
the bills."
" I don't wonder he does n't want her at
home ! " said Priscilla.
" There is n't any home. Her mother is
divorced, and married again, and living in
Paris. That was the reason Harriet could n't
go abroad with the school party last year.
Her father was afraid that when she got to
Paris, her mother would grab her — not that
either of them really wants her, but they like
to spite each other."
Priscilla and Conny sat up interestedly.
Here was a tragic intrigue, such as you ex-
pect to meet only in novels, going on under
their very noses.
&
153
Just Patty
" You girls who have had a happy home
life, cannot imagine the loneliness of a child-
hood such as Harriet's," said Patty impress-
ively.
"It's dreadful!" Conny cried. "Her
father must be a perfect Beast not to take any
notice of her."
" Harriet has her mother's eyes," Patty ex-
plained. " Her father can't bear to look at
her, because she reminds him of the happy
past that is dead forever."
"Did Miss Wadsworth say that?" they
demanded in an interested chorus.
" Not in exactly those words," Patty con-
fessed. " I just gathered the outline."
This story, with picturesque additions, lost
no time in making the rounds of the school.
Had Harriet chosen to play up to the ro-
mantic and melancholy role she was cast for,
she might have attained popularity of a sort;
(but Harriet did not have the slightest trace of
the histrionic in her make-up. She merely
moped about, and continued to be heavy and
uninteresting. Other more exciting matters
154
The Silver Buckles
demanded public attention; and Harriet and
her blasted childhood were forgotten.
Patty stood on the veranda waving good-
by to the last hearseful of Christmas travel-
ers, then turned indoors to face an empty
three weeks. As she was listlessly preparing
to mount the stairs, Maggie waylaid her with
the message :
" Mrs. Trent would like to speak to you
in her private study, Miss Patty."
Patty turned back, wondering for just which
of her latest activities she was to be called to
account. A visit to the Dowager's private
study usually meant that a storm was brewing.
She found the four left-behind teachers cosily
gathered about the tea table, and to her sur-
prise, was received with four affable smiles.
" Sit down, Patty, and have some tea."
The Dowager motioned her to a chair,
while she mingled an inch of tea with three
inches of hot water. Miss Sallie fur-
nished a fringed napkin, Miss Jellings pre-
sented buttered toast, and Miss Wadsworth,
salted almonds. Patty blinked dazedly and
155'
Just Patty
accepted the offerings. To be waited on by
four teachers was an entirely new experience.
Her spirits rose considerably as she mentally
framed the story for Priscilla's and Conny's
delectation. When she had ceased to won-
der why she was being thus honored, the rea-
son appeared.
" I am sorry, Patty," said the Dowager,
" that none of your special friends are to be
here this year; but I am sure that you and
Margarite and Harriet will get on very hap-
pily. Breakfast will be half an hour later
than usual, and the rules about bounds will be
somewhat relaxed — only of course we must
always know where to find you. I shall try
to plan a matinee party in the city, and Miss
Sallie will take you to spend a day at the
farm. The ice is strong enough now for you
to skate, and Martin will get out the sleds
for you to coast. You must be in the open
air as much as possible; and I shall be very
pleased if you and Margarite can interest
Harriet in out-of-door sports. Speaking of
Harriet—"
The Dowager hesitated momentarily, and
The Silver Buckles
Patty's acute understanding realized that at
last they were getting at the kernel of the in-
terview. The tea and toast had been merely
wrapping. She listened with a touch of sus-
picion, while the Dowager lowered her voice
with an air of confidence.
" Speaking of Harriet, I should like to en-
list your sympathy, Patty. She is very sweet
and genuine. A girl that anyone might be
proud to have for a friend. But through an
accident, such as sometimes happens in a
crowded, busy, selfish community, she has
been overlooked and left behind. Harriet
has never seemed to adjust herself so readily
as most girls; and I fear that the poor child
is often very lonely. It would be highly grati-
fying to me if you would make an effort to be
friendly with her. I am sure that she will
meet your advances half way."
Patty murmured a few polite phrases and
retired to dress for dinner, stubbornly re-
solved to be as distant with Harriet as possi-
ble. Her friendship was not a commodity
to be bought with tea and buttered toast.
The three girls had dinner alone at a little
157
Just Patty
candle-lit table set in a corner of the dining-
room, while the four teachers occupied a con-
veniently distant table in the opposite corner.
Patty commenced the meal by being as mon-
osyllabic as possible; but it was not her nat-
ural attitude toward the world, and by the
time the veal had arrived (it was Wednesday
night) she was laughing whole-heartedly at
Kid's ingenuous conversation. Miss Mc-
Coy's vocabulary was rich in the vernacular
of the plains, and in vacation she let herself
go. During term time she was forced to curb
her discourse, owing to the penny tax on
slang. Otherwise, her entire allowance would
have gone to swell the public coffers.
It was a relief to let dinner-table conversa-
tion flow where it listed; usually, with a
teacher in attendance and the route marked
out, there was a cramped formality about the
meal. French conversation was supposed to
occupy the first three courses five nights in the
week, and every girl must contribute at least
two remarks. It cannot be said that on
French nights the dining-room was garrulous.
Saturday night was devoted to a discussion (in
The Silver Buckles
English), of current events, gleaned from a
study of the editorials in the morning paper.
Nobody at St. Ursula's had much time for edi-
torials, and even on an English Saturday con-
versation languished. But the school made
up for it on Sunday. This day, being festa,
they could talk about anything they chose;
and sixty-four magpies chattering their ut-
most, would have been silence in comparison
to St. Ursula's at dinner time on Sunday.
The four days preceding Christmas passed
with unexpected swiftness. A snow-storm
marked the first, followed by three days of
glistening sunshine. Martin got out the bobs,
and the girls piled in and rode to the wood-
lot for evergreens. There were many er-
rands in the village, and the novelty of not
always having a teacher at one's heels, proved
in itself diverting.
Patty found the two companions which cir-
cumstances had forced upon her unexpectedly
companionable. They skated and coasted
and had snow fights; and Harriet, to Patty's
wide-eyed astonishment, assumed a very ap-
159
Just Patty
preciable animation. On Christmas Eve they
had been out with Martin delivering Christ-
mas baskets to old time proteges of the school ;
and on the way home, through pure overflow-
ing animal spirits, for a mile or more they
had " caught on " the back of the bob, and
then tumbled out and run and caught on again,
until they finally dove head foremost into the
big piled-up drift by the porte-cochere. They
shook the snow from their clothes, like pup-
pies from a pond, and laughing and excited
trooped indoors. Harriet's cheeks were red
from contact with the snow, her usually prim
hair was a tangled mass about her face, her
big dark eyes had lost their mournful look.
They were merry, mischievous, girlish eyes.
She was not merely pretty, but beautiful, in a
wild, unusual, gypsyish way that compelled
attention.
" I say! " Patty whispered to Kid McCoy
as they divested themselves of rubbers and
leggins in the lower hall. " Look at Har-
riet! Isn't she pretty? "
" Golly!" murmured the Kid. "If she
1 60
The Silver Buckles
knew enough to play up to her looks, she 'd
be the ravingest beauty in all the school."
" Let 's make her! " said Patty.
At the top of the stairs they met Osaki with
a hammer and chisel.
" I open two box," he observed. " One
Mees Margarite McCoy. One Mees Patty
Wyatt."
"Hooray!" cried the Kid, starting at a
gallop for her room in the South Wing.
A Christmas box to Kid McCoy meant a
lavish wealth of new possessions out of all
proportion to her desserts. She owned a
bachelor guardian who was subject to fits of
such erratic generosity that the Dowager had
regularly to remind him that Margarite was
but a school girl with simple tastes. For-
tunately he always forgot this warning before
the next Christmas — or else he knew Kid
too well to believe it — and the boxes con-
tinued to come.
Patty had also started without ceremony
for Paradise Alley, when she became aware
of deserted Harriet, slowly trailing down
161
Just Patty
the dim length of Lark Lane. She ran
back and grasped her by an elbow.
"Come on, Harry! And help me open
it."
Harriet's face flushed with sudden pleas-
ure ; it was the first time, in the five and a half
years of her school career, that she had ever
achieved the dignity of a nickname. She ac-
companied Patty with some degree of eager-
ness. The next best thing to receiving a
Christmas box of your own, is to be present
at the reception of a friend's.
It was a big square wooden box, packed1
to the brim with smaller boxes and parcels
tied with ribbon and holly, and tucked into
every crevice funny surprises. You could
picture, just from looking at it, the kind of
home that it came from, filled with jokes and
nonsense and love,
" It 's the first Christmas I 've ever spent
away from home," said Patty, with the sug-
gestion of a quiver in her voice.
But her momentary soberness did not last;
the business of exploration was too absorbing
to allow of any divided emotion. Harriet
162
The Silver Buckles
sat on the edge of the bed and watched in si-
lence, while Patty gaily strewed the floor with
tissue paper and scarlet ribbon. She unpacked
a wide assortment of gloves and books and
trinkets, each with a message of love. Even
the cook had baked a Christmas cake with a
fancy top. And little Tommy, in wobbly up-
hill printing, had labeled an elephant filled
with candy, " FOR DERE CISTER FROM
TOM."
Patty laughed happily as she plumped a
chocolate into her mouth, and dropped the
elephant into Harriet's lap.
" Are n't they dears to go to such a lot
of trouble? I tell you, it pays to stay away
sometimes, they think such a lot more of you !
This is from Mother," she added, as she
pried off the cover of a big dressmaker's box,
and lifted out a filmy dancing frock of pink
crepe.
" Is n't it perfectly sweet? " she demanded,
" and I did n't need it a bit I Don't you love
to get things you don't need? "
" I never do," said Harriet.
Patty was already deep in another parcel.
Just Patty
" From Daddy, with all the love in the
world," she read. " Dear old Dad ! What
on earth do you s'pose it is? I hope Mother
suggested something. He 's a perfect idiot
about choosing presents, unless — Oh ! " she
squealed. " Pink silk stockings and slippers
to match; and look at those perfectly lovely
buckles!"
She offered for Harriet's inspection a pink
satin slipper adorned with the daintiest of sil-
ver buckles, and with heels dizzily suggestive
of France.
" Is n't my father a lamb? " Patty gaily
kissed her hand toward a dignified, judicial-
looking portrait on the bureau. " Mother
suggested the slippers, of course, but the
buckles and French heels were his own idea.
She likes me sensible, and he likes me frivo-
lous."
She was deep in the absorbing business of
holding the pink frock before the glass to
make sure that the color was becoming, when
she was suddenly arrested by the sound of a
sob, and she turned to see Harriet throw her-
self across the bed and clutch the pillow in a
164
The Silver Buckles
storm of weeping. Patty stared with wide-
open eyes ; she herself did not indulge in such
emotional demonstrations, and she could not
imagine any possible cause. She moved the
pink satin slippers out of reach of Harriet's
thrashing feet, gathered up the fallen ele-
phant and scattered chocolates, and sat down
to wait until the cataclysm should pass.
"What's the matter?" she mildly in-
quired, when Harriet's sobs gave place to
choking gasps.
" My father never sent me any s-silver
b-buckles."
" He 's way off in Mexico," said Patty,
awkwardly groping for consolation.
" He never sends me anything ! He
does n't even know me. He would n't recog-
nize me if he met me on the street."
" Oh, yes, he would," Patty assured her
with doubtful comfort. " You have n't
changed a bit in four years."
" And he would n't like me if he did know
me. I 'm not pretty, and my clothes are
never nice, and — " Harriet was off again.
Patty regarded her for a moment of
Just Patty
thoughtful silence, then she decided on a new
tack. She stretched out a hand and shook
her vigorously.
" For goodness' sake, stop crying ! That 's
what 's the matter with your father. No man
can stand having tears dripped down his neck
all the time."
Harriet arrested her sobs to stare.
" If you could see the way you look when
you cry ! Sort of streaked. Come here ! "
She took her by the shoulder and faced her
before the mirror. " Did you ever see sucfi
a fright? And I was just thinking, before
you began, about how pretty you looked. I
was, honestly. You could be as pretty as any
of the rest of us, if you 'd only make up your
mind—"
" No, I could n't ! I 'm just as ugly as I
can be. Nobody likes me and — "
"It's your own fault!" said Patty
sharply. " If you were fat, like Irene Mc-
Cullough, or if you did n't have any chin like
Evalina Smith, there might be some reason,
but there is n't anything on earth the matter
with you, except that you 're so damp! You
166
The Silver Buckles
cry all the time, and it gets tiresome to be for-
ever sympathizing. I 'm telling you the
truth because I 'm beginning to like you.
There 's never any use bothering to tell peo-
ple the truth when you don't like them. The
reason Conny and Pris and I get on so well
together, is because we always tell each other
the exact truth about our faults. Then we
have a chance to correct them — that 's what
makes us so nice," she added modestly.
Harriet sat with her mouth open, too sur-
prised to cry.
" And your clothes are awful," pursued
Patty interestedly. " You ought not to let
Miss Sallie pick 'em out. Miss Sallie 's nice ;
I like her a lot, but she does n't know any
more than a rabbit about clothes ; you- can tell
that by the way she dresses herself. And
then, too, you 'd be a lot nicer if you would n't
be so stiff. If you 'd just laugh the way the
irest of us do — "
• " How can I laugh when I don't think
things are funny? The jokes the girls make
are awfully silly — "
Speech was no longer possible, for Kid
167
Just Patty
McCoy came stampeding down the corridor
with as much racket as a cavalcade of horse.
She was decked in a fur scarf and a necklace
set with pearls, she wore a muff on her head,
drum-major fashion; a lace handkerchief and
a carved ivory fan protruded from the
pocket of her blouse and a pink chiffon scarf
floated from her shoulders; her wrist was
adorned with an Oriental bracelet and she
was lugging in her arms a silver-mounted
Mexican saddle, of a type that might be suited
to the plains of Texas, but never to the re-
spectable country lanes adjacent to St. Ur-
sula's.
" Bully for Guardie! " she shouted as she
descended upon them. " He 's a daisy; he 's
a ducky; he 's a lamb. Did you ever see such
a perfectly corking saddle? "
She plumped it over a chair, transformed
the pink chiffon scarf into a bridle, and pro-
ceeded to mount and canter off.
"Get up! Whoa! Hi, there! Clear
the road."
Harriet jumped aside to avoid being
bumped, while Patty snatched her pink frock
168
The Silver Buckles
from the path of the runaway. They were
shrieking with laughter, even Harriet, the
tearful.
" Now you see! " said Patty, suddenly in-
terrupting her mirth. " It 's perfectly easy to
laugh if you just let yourself go. Kid is n't
really funny. She 's just as silly as she can
be."
Kid brought her horse to a stand.
"Well I like that 1"
" Excuse me for telling the truth/' said
Patty politely, " I 'm just using you for an
illustration — Heavens ! There 's the bell ! "
She commenced unlacing her blouse with
one hand, while she pushed her guests to the
door with the other.
" Hurry and dress, and come back to but-
ton me up. It would be a very delicate atten-
tion for us to be on time to-night. We Ve been
late for every meal since vacation began."
|
The girls spent Christmas morning coast-
ing. They were on time for luncheon — and
with appetites!
The meal was half over when Osakl ap-
169
Just Patty
peared with a telegram, which he handed to
the Dowager. She read it with agitated sur-
prise and passed it to Miss Sallie, who raised
her eyebrows and handed it to Miss Wads-
worth, who was thrown into a very visible
flutter.
"What on earth can it be?" wondered
Kid.
" Lordy 's eloped, and they Ve got to hunt
for a new Latin teacher," was Patty's inter-
pretation.
As the three girls left the table, the Dow-
ager waylaid Harriet
" Step into my study a moment. A tele-
gram has just come — "
Patty and Kid climbed the stairs in wide-
eyed wonder.
" It can't be bad news, for Miss Sallie was
smiling — " meditated Patty. "And I can't
think of any good news that can be happen-
ing to Harriet."
Ten minutes later there was the sound of
footsteps on the stairs, and Harriet burst into
Patty's room wild with excitement.
"He's coming!"
170
The Silver Buckles
"Who?"
" My father."
"When?"
" Right now — this afternoon — He 's
been in New York on business, and is coming
to see me for Christmas."
"I'm so glad!" said Patty heartily.
" Now, you see the reason he has n't come
before is because he has been way off in Mex-
ico."
Harriet shook her head, with a sudden drop
in her animation.
" I suppose he thinks he ought."
"Nonsense!"
" It 's so. He does n't care for me —
really. He likes girls to be jolly and pretty;
and clever like you."
"Well, then — be jolly and pretty and
clever like me."
Harriet's eyes sought the mirror, and filled
with tears.
" You 're a perfect idiot! " said Patty, de-
spairingly.
" I 'm an awful fright in my green dress,"
said Harriet.
171
Just Patty
" Yes," Patty grudgingly conceded. " You
are."
" The skirt is too short, and the waist is
too long."
" And the sleeves are sort of queer," said
Patty.
Faced by these dispiriting facts, she felt
her enthusiasm ebbing.
" What time is he coming? " she asked.
" Four o'clock."
" That gives us two hours," Patty rallied
her forces. " One can do an awful lot in
two hours. If you were only nearer my size,
you could wear my new pink dress — but I 'm
afraid — " She regarded Harriet's long legs
dubiously. " I '11 tell you ! " she added, in a
rush of generosity. " We'll take out the
tucks and let down the hem."
uOh, Patty!" Harriet was tearfully
afraid of spoiling the gown. But when
Patty's zeal in any cause was roused, all other
considerations were swept aside. The new
frock was fetched from the closet, and the
ripping began.
" And you can wear Kid's new pearl neck*
172
The Silver Buckles
lace and pink scarf, and my silk stockings and
slippers — if you can get 'em on — and I
think Conny left a lace petticoat that came
back from the laundry too late to pack —
and — Here 's Kid now 1 "
Miss McCoy's sympathies were enlisted
and in fifteen minutes the task of transform-
ing a remonstrating, excited, and occasionally
tearful Harriet into the school beauty, was
going gaily forward. Kid McCoy was sup-
posed to be an irreclaimable tomboy, but in
this crucial moment the eternal feminine came
triumphantly to the fore. She sat herself
down, with Patty's manicure scissors, and for
three-quarters of an hour painstakingly ripped
out tucks.
Patty meanwhile addressed her attention to
Harriet's hair.
" Don't strain it back so tight," she or-
dered. " It looks as though you 'd done it
with a monkey-wrench. Here! Give me
the comb."
She pushed Harriet into a chair, tied a
towel about her neck, and accomplished the
coifing by force.
173
Just Patty
" How 's that? " she demanded of Kid.
" Bully! " Kid mumbled, her mouth full of
pins.
/ Harriet's hair was rippled loosely about
her face, and tied with a pink ribbon bow.
The ribbon belonged to Conny Wilder,
and had heretofore figured as a belt; but in-
dividual property rights were forced to bow
before the cause.
The slippers and stockings did prove too
small, and Patty frenziedly ransacked the bu-
reaus of a dozen of her absent friends in the
vain hope of unearthing pink footwear. In
the end, she had reluctantly to permit Har-
riet's appearing in her own simple cotton hose
and patent leather pumps.
" But after all," Patty reassured her, " it 's
better for you to wear black. Your feet
would be sort of conspicuous in pink." She
was still in her truthful mood. " I '11 tell
you ! " she cried, " you can wear my silver
buckles." And she commenced cruelly
wrenching them from their pink chiffon set-
ting.
174
The Silver Buckles
" Patty ! Don't! " Harriet gasped at the
sacrilege.
" They 're just the last touch that your cos-
tume needs." Patty ruthlessly carried on the
work of destruction. " When your father
sees those buckles, he '11 think you 're beauti-
ful! "
For a feverish hour they worked. They
clothed her triumphantly in all the grandeur
that they could command. The entire cor-
ridor had contributed its quota, even to the
lace-edged handkerchief with a hand-embroid-
ered " H " that had been left behind in Hes-
ter Pringle's top drawer. The two turned
her critically before the mirror, the pride of
creation in their eyes. As Kid had truly
presaged, she was the ravingest beauty in all
the school.
Irish Maggie appeared in the door.
" Mr. Gladden is in the drawin'-room, Miss
Harriet." She stopped and stared. " Sure,
ye 're that beautiful I did n't know ye! "
Harriet went with a laugh — and a fight-
ing light in her eyes.
175
Just Patty
Patty and Kid restlessly set themselves to
reducing the chaos that this sudden butterfly
flight had caused in Paradise Alley — it is
always dreary work setting things to rights,
after the climax of an event has been reached.
It was an hour later that the sudden quick
patter of feet sounded in the hall, and Har-
riet ran in — danced in — her eyes were shin-
ing; she was a picture of youth and happiness
and bubbling spirits.
" Well? " cried Patty and Kid in a breath.
She stretched out her wrist and displayed
a gold-linked bracelet set with a tiny watch.
" Look! " she cried, " he brought me that
for Christmas. And I 'm going to have all
the dresses I want, and Miss Sallie is n't going
to pick them out ever again. And he 's going
to stay for dinner to-night, and eat at the lit-
tle table with us. And he 's going to take us
into town next Saturday for luncheon and the
^jnatinee, and the Dowager says we may go ! "
"Gee!" observed Kid. "It paid for
all the trouble we took."
"And what do you think?" Harriet
i 176
The Silver Buckles
caught her breath in a little gasp. " He likes
me! "
" I knew those silver buckles would fetcfc
him ! " said Patty.
VII
"Uncle Bobby
VII
"Uncle Bobby"
HILE St. Ursula's was still dal-
lying with a belated morning-
after-Christmas breakfast, the
mail arrived, bringing among
other matters, a letter for Patty from her
mother. It contained cheering news as to
Tommy's scarlet fever, and the expressed
hope that school was not too lonely during the
holidays ; it ended with the statement that Mr.
[Robert Pendleton was going to be in the city
on business, and had promised to run out to
St. Ursula's to see her little daughter.
The last item Patty read aloud to Harriet
Gladden and Kid McCoy (christened Mar-
garite). The three " left-behinds " were oc-
cupying a table together in a secluded corner
of the dining-room.
181
Just Patty
"Who's Mr. Robert Pendleton?" in-
quired Kid, looking up from her own letter.
41 He used to be my father's private secre-
tary when I was a little girl. I always called
him 4 Uncle Bobby.' "
Kid returned to her mail. She took no in-
terest in the race of uncles, either real or fic-
titious. But Patty, being in a reminiscent
mood, continued the conversation with Har-
riet, who had no mail to deflect her.
44 Then he went away and commenced prac-
tising for himself. It 's been ages since I Ve
seen him ; but he was really awfully nice. He
used to spend his entire time — when he
was n't writing Father's speeches — in get-
ting me out of scrapes. I had a goat named
Billy-Boy—"
44 Is he married? " asked Harriet.
" N-no, I don't think so. I believe he had
a disappointment in his youth, that broke his
heart."
44 What fun!" cried Kid, reemerging.
44 Is it still broken?"
" I suppose so," said Patty.
44 How old is he?"
182
"Uncle Bobby"
" I don't know, I 'm sure. He must be
quite old by now." L(^er tone suggested
that he was tottering on the brink of the
grave). " It has been seven years since I 've
seen him, and he was through college then."
Kid dismissed the subject. Old men, even
with broken hearts, contained no interest for
her.
[That afternoon, as the three girls were
gathered in Patty's room enjoying an indi-
gestible four o'clock tea of milk and bread
and butter (furnished by the school) and
fruit cake and candy and olives and stuffed
prunes, the expressman arrived with a belated
consignment of Christmas gifts, among them
a long narrow parcel addressed to Patty. She
tore off the wrapping, to find a note and a
white pasteboard box. She read the note
aloud while the others looked over her shoul-
der. Patty always generously shared experi-
ences with anyone who might be near.
*' My Dear Patty,—
" Have you forgotten ' Uncle Bobby ' who used to
stand between you and many well-deserved spank-
ings? I trust that you have grown into a VERY
183
Just Patty
GOOD GIRL now that you are old enough to gd
away to school!
" I am coming to see for myself on Thursday
afternoon. In the meantime, please accept the ac-
companying Christmas remembrance, with the hope
that you are having a happy holiday, in spite of hav-
ing to spend it away from home.
" Your old playfellow,
" ROBERT PENDLETON."
" What do you s'pose it is? " asked Patty,
as she addressed herself to unknotting the
gold cord on the box.
" I hope it Js either flowers or candy," Har-
riet returned. " Miss Sallie says it is n't
proper to — "
" Looks to me like American Beauty
roses," suggested Kid McCoy.
Patty beamed.
" Is n't it a lark to be getting flowers from
a man? I feel awfully grown up ! "
She lifted the cover, removed a mass of
tissue paper, and revealed a blue-eyed, smiling
'doll.
The three girls stared for a bewildered mo-
ment, then Patty slid to the floor, and buried
184
"Uncle Bobby"
her head in her arms against the bed and
laughed.
%i It 's got real hair! " said Harriet, gently
lifting the doll from its bed of tissue paper,
and entering upon a detailed inspection.
" It 's clothes come off, and it opens and shuts
its eyes."
" Whoop ! " shouted Kid McCoy, as she
snatched a shoe-horn from the bureau and
commenced an Indian war dance.
Patty checked her hysterics sufficiently to
rescue her new treasure from the danger of
being scalped. As she squeezed the doll in
her arms, safe from harm's way, it opened
its lips and emitted a grateful, " Ma-ma! "
They laughed afresh. They laid on the
floor and rolled in an ecstasy of mirth until
they were weak and gasping. Could Uncle
Bobby have witnessed the joy his gift brought
to three marooned St. Ursulites, he would
have indeed been gratified. They continued
to laugh all that day and the following morn-
ing. By afternoon Patty had just recovered
her self-control sufficiently to carry off with
decent gravity Uncle Bobby's promised visit.
185
Just Patty
As a usual thing, callers were discouraged
at St. Ursula's. They must come from away,
accredited with letters from the parents, and
then must pass an alarming assemblage of
chaperones. Miss Sallie remained in the
drawing-room during the first half of the call
(which could last an hour), but was then
supposed to withdraw. But Miss Sallie was
a social soul, and she frequently neglected to
withdraw. The poor girl would sit silent in
the corner, a smile upon her lips, mutiny in
her heart, while Miss Sallie entertained the
caller.
But rules were somewhat relaxed in the
holidays. On the day of Uncle Bobby's
visit, by a fortuitous circumstance, Miss Sallie
was five miles away, superintending a new
incubator house at the school farm. The
Dowager and Miss Wadsworth and Miss
Jellings were scheduled for a reception in the
jvillage, and the other teachers were all away
for the holidays. Patty was told to receive
him herself, and to remember her manners,
and let him do a little of the talking.
This left her beautifully free to carry out
186
"Uncle Bobby"
the outrageous scheme that she had con«
cocted over night. Harriet and Kid lent
their delighted assistance, and the three spent
the morning planning for her entrance in
character. They successfully looted the
" Baby Ward " where the fifteen little girls
of the school occupied fifteen little white
cots set in fifteen alcoves. A white, stiffly
starched sailor suit was discovered, with a
flaring blue linen collar, and a kilted skirt,
that was shockingly short. Kid McCoy
gleefully unearthed a pair of blue and white
socks that exactly matched the dress, but they
proved very much too small.
" They would n't look well anyway,"
said Patty, philosophically, " I Ve got an aw-
ful scratch on one knee."
Gymnasium slippers with spring heels re-
duced her five feet by an inch. She spent the
early afternoon persuading her hair to hang
in a row of curls, with a spanking blue bow
over her left ear. When she was finished,
she made as sweet a little girl as one would
ever find romping in the park on a sunny
morning.
Just Patty
" What will you do if he kisses you? " in-
quired Kid McCoy.
" I '11 try not to laugh," said Patty.
She occupied the fifteen minutes of wait-
ing in a dress rehearsal. By the time Mag-
gie arrived with the tidings that the visitor
was below, she had her part letter-perfect.
Kid and Harriet followed as far as the first
landing, where they remained dangling over
the banisters, while Patty shouldered her
doll and descended to the drawing-room.
She sidled bashfully into the door, dropped
a courtesy, and extended a timid hand to the
tall young gentleman who advanced to meet
her.
"How do you do, Uncle Wobert?" she
lisped.
" Well, well ! Is this little Patty ? "
He took her by the chin and turned up
her face for a closer inspection — Mr. Pen-
dleton was, mercifully, somewhat near-
sighted. She smiled back sweetly, with wide,
innocent, baby eyes.
" You 're getting to be a great big
girl!"
188
"Uncle Bobby "
he pronounced with fatherly approval.
" You reach almost to my shoulder.'*
She settled herself far back in a deep
leather chair, and sat primly upright, her feet
sticking straight out in front, while she
clasped the doll in her arms.
" Sank you very much, Uncle Bobby, for
my perfectly beautiful doll ! " Patty im-
printed a kiss upon the smiling bisque lips.
Uncle Bobby watched with gratified ap-
proval. He liked this early manifestation of
the motherly instinct.
" And what are you going to name her? "
he inquired.
" I can't make up my mind." She raised
anxious eyes to his.
" How would Patty Junior do? "
She repudiated the suggestion; and they
finally determined upon Alice, after " Alice
in Wonderland." This point happily dis-
posed of, they settled themselves for conver-
sation. He told her about a Christmas pan-
tomime he had seen in London, with little
girls and boys for actors.
Patty listened, deeply interested.
189
Just Patty
" I 'II send you the fairy book that has the
story of the play," he promised, " with col-
ored pictures; and then^you can read it for
yourself. You know how to read, of
course? " he added.
" Oh, yes!" said Patty, reproachfully.
" I 've known how to read a long time. I
can read anyfing — if it has big print."
" Well ! You are coming on ! " said Uncle
Bobby.
They fell to reminiscing, and the conver-
sation turned to Billy-Boy.
" Do you remember the time he chewed up
his rope and came to church? " Patty dimpled
at the recollection.
" Jove! I '11 never forget it!"
" And usually Faver found an excuse for
not going, but that Sunday Mover made
him, and when he saw Billy-Boy marching up
the aisle, with a sort of dignified smile on
his face — "
Uncle Bobby threw back his head and
laughed.
" I thought the Judge would have a stroke
of apoplexy !" he declared.
190
"Uncle Bobby"
11 But the funniest thing," said Patty,
" was to see you and Father trying to get
him out! You pushed and Father pulled,
and first Billy balked and then he butted."
She suddenly realized that she had neg-
lected to lisp, but Uncle Bobby was too taken
up with the story to be conscious of any
lapse. Patty inconspicuously reassumed her
character.
" And Faver scolded me because the rope
broke — and it was n't my fault at all! " she
added with a pathetic quiver of the lips.
" And the next day he had Billy-Boy shot."
At the remembrance Patty drooped her
head over the doll in her arms. Uncle
Bobby hastily offered comfort.
" Never mind, Patty ! Maybe you '11 have
another goat some day."
She shook her head, with the suggestion
of a sob.
" No, I never will ! They don't let us
keep goats here. And I loved Billy-Boy.
I Jm awfully lonely without him."
1 There, there, Patty ! You 're too big a
girl to cry." Uncle Bobby patted her curls,
191
Just Patty
with kindly solicitude. " How would you
like to go to the circus with me some day next
week, and see all the animals? "
Patty cheered up.
" Will there be ele-phunts? " she asked.
" There '11 be several," he promisedc
" And lions and tigers and camels."
" Oh, goody! " she clapped her hands and
smiled through her tears. " I 'd love to go.
Sank you very, very much."
Half an hour later Patty rejoined her
friends in Paradise Alley. She executed a
few steps of the sailor's hornpipe with the
doll as partner, then plumped herself onto
the middle of the bed and laughingly re-
garded her two companions through over-
hanging curls.
" Tell us what he said," Kid implored.
" We nearly pulled our necks out by the
roots stretching over the banisters, but we
could n't hear a word."
" Did he kiss you? " asked Harriet.
" N-no." There was a touch of regret in
her tone. u But he patted me on the head.
He has a very sweet way with children.
192
"Uncle Bobby "
You 'd think he 'd had a course in kinder-
garten training."
"What did you talk about?" insisted
Kid.
Patty outlined the conversation.
" And he 's going to take me to the circus
next Wednesday," she ended, " to see the ele-
phunts! "
" The Dowager will never let you go,"
objected Harriet.
" Oh, yes, she will! " said Patty. " It 's
perfectly proper to go to the circus with your
uncle — 'specially in vacation. We Ve got
it all planned. I 'm to go into town with
Waddy. I heard her say she had an ap-
pointment at the dentist's — and he '11 be at
the station with a hansom — "
" More likely a baby carriage," Kid put
in.
" Miss Wadsworth will never take you
into town in those clothes," Harriet ob-
jected.
Patty hugged her knees and rocked back
and forth, while her dimples came and went.
" I think," she said, " that the next time
13 193
Just Patty
I '11 give him an entirely different kind of a
sensation."
And she did.
Anticipatory of the coming event, she
sent her suit to the tailor's and had him
lengthen the hem of the skirt two inches.
She spent an entire morning retrimming her
hat along more mature lines, and she pur-
chased a veil — with spots ! She also spent
twenty-five cents for hairpins, and did up her
hair on the top of her head. She wore Kid
McCoy's Christmas furs and Harriet's
bracelet watch; and, as she set off with a
somewhat bewildered Miss Wadsworth, they
assured her that she looked old.
They reached the city a trifle late for Mist,
Wadsworth's appointment. Patty spied Mr
Pendleton across the waiting-room.
"There's Uncle Robert!" she said; and
to her intense satisfaction, Miss Wadsworth
left her to accost him alone.
She sauntered over in a very blase fashion
and held out her hand. The spots in the veil
seemed to dazzle him; for a moment he did
not recognize her.
194
"Uncle Bobby "
"Mr. Pendleton! How do you do?"
Patty smiled cordially. " It 's really aw-
fully good of you to devote so much time to
my entertainment. And so original of you
to think of a circus 1 I have n't attended a
circus for years. It 's really refreshing after
such a dose of Shakespeare and Ibsen as the
theatres have been offering this winter."
Mr. Pendleton offered a limp hand and
hailed a hansom without comment. He
leaned back in the corner and continued to
stare for three silent minutes; then he threw
back his head and laughed.
"Good Lord, Patty! Do you mean to
tell me that you Ve grown up? "
Patty laughed too.
" Well, Uncle Bobby, what do you think
about it?"
Dinner was half over that night before
the two travelers returned. Patty dropped
into her seat and unfolded her napkin, with
the weary air of a society woman of many
engagements.
"What happened?" the other two clam-
195
Just Patty
ored. " Tell us about it ! Was the circus
nice?"
Patty nodded.
" The circus was charming — and so were
the elephants — and so was Uncle Bobby.
We had tea afterwards; and he gave me a
bunch of violets and a box of candy, instead
of the fairy book. He said he would n't be
called * Uncle Bobby * by anyone as old as
me — that I 'd got to drop the ' Uncle ' —
It 5s funny, you know, but he really seems
younger than he did seven years ago."
Patty dimpled and cast a wary eye toward
the faculty table across the room.
" He says he has business quite often in
this neighborhood."
198
VIII
The Society of Associated
Sirens
VIII
The Society of Asso-
ciated Sirens
ONNY had gone home to re-
cuperate from a severe attack
of pink-eye. Priscilla had
gone to Porto Rico to spend
two weeks with her father and the Atlantic
Fleet. Patty, lonely and abandoned, was
thrown upon the school for society; and
Patty at large, was very likely to get into
trouble.
On the Saturday following the double de-
parture, she, with Rosalie Patton and Mae
Van Arsdale, made a trip into the city in
charge of Miss Wadsworth, to accomplish
some spring shopping. Patty and Rosalie
each needed new hats — besides such minor'
matters as gloves and shoes and petticoats
199
Just Patty
— and Mae was to have a fitting for her new
tailor suit. These duties performed, the
afternoon was to be given over to relaxation ;
at lease to such relaxation as a Shakespearean
tragedy affords.
But when they presented themselves at
the theater, they were faced by the announce-
ment that the star had met with an automo-
bile accident on his way to the performance,
and that he was too damaged to appear;
money would be refunded at the box office.
The girls still clamored for their matinee,
and Miss Wadsworth hurriedly cast about
for a fitting substitute for Hamlet
Miss Wadsworth was middle-aged and
vacillating and easily-led and ladylike and
shockable. She herself knew that she had
no strength of character; and she conscien-
tiously strove to overcome this cardinal de-
fect in a chaperone, by stubbornly opposing
whatever her charges elected to do.
To-day they voted for a French farce with
John Drew as hero. Miss Wadsworth said
" no " with all the firmness she could assume,
and herself picked out a drama entitled^ The
200
Society of Associated Sirens
Wizard of the Nile," under the impression
that it would assist their knowledge of an-
cient Egypt,
But the Wizard turned out to be a recent
and spurious imitation of the original his-
torical wizard. She was ultra-modern Eng-
lish, with a French flavor. The time was
to-morrow, and the scene the terrace of Shep-
herd's Hotel. She wore long, clinging robes
of chiffon and gold cut in the style of Cleo-
patra along Parisian lines. Her rose-tinted
ears were enhanced by drooping earrings,
and her eyes were cunningly lengthened at
the corners, in a fetching Egyptian slant.
She was very beautiful and very merciless;
she broke every masculine heart in Cairo,
As a climax to her shocking career of wicked-
ness, she smoked cigarettes!
Poor bewildered Miss Wadsworth sat
through the four acts, worried, breathless,
horrified — 'fascinated; but the three girls
were simply fascinated. They thrilled over
the scenery and music and costumes all the
way back in the train. Cairo, to their daz-
zled eyes, opened up realms of adventure,
201
Just Patty
undreamed of in the proper bounds of St.
Ursula's. The Mecca of all travel had be-
come Shepherd's Hotel.
That night, long after " Lights-out " had
rung, when Patty's mind was becoming an
agreeable jumble of sphinxes and pyramids
and English officers, she was suddenly
startled wide awake by feeling two hands
rise from the darkness and clutch her shoul-
ders on the right and left. She sat upright
with a very audible gasp, and demanded in
unguardedly loud tones, " Who 's that? "
The two hands instantly covered her
mouth.
"Sh-h! Keep quiet! Haven't you any
sense? "
" Mademoiselle's door is wide open, and
Lordy 's visiting her."
Rosalie perched on the right of the bed,
and Mae Mertelle on the left.
"What do you want?" asked Patty,
crossly.
" We Ve got a perfectly splendid idea,"
whispered Rosalie.
202
Society of Associated Sirens
" A secret society," echoed Mae Mer-
telle.
" Let me alone!" growled Patty. "I
want to go to sleep."
She laid down again in the narrow space
left by her visitors. They paid no atten-
tion to her inhospitality, but drawing their
bath robes closer about them, settled down
to talk. Patty, being comfortably inside
and warm, while they shivered outside, was
finally induced to lend a drowsy ear.
" I 've thought of a new society," said
Mae Mertelle. She did not propose to
share the honor of creation with Rosalie.
" And it 's going to be really secret this time.
I 'm not going to let in the whole school.
Only us three. And this society has n't just
a few silly secrets; it has an aim."
'* We 're going to call it the Society of
Associated Sirens," Rosalie eagerly broke in.
" The what? " demanded Patty.
Rosalie rolled off the sonorous syllables a
second time.
' The Sho-shiety of Ash-sho-she-ated
203
Just Patty
Shi-rens," Patty mumbled sleepily. " It 's
too hard to say."
" Oh, but we won't call it that in public.
The name 's a secret. We '11 call it the S.
A. S."
"What's it for?"
" You '11 promise not to tell? " Mae asked
guardedly.
" No, of course I won't tell."
" Not even Pris and Conny when they get
back?"
" We '11 make them members," said
Patty.
" Well — perhaps — but this is the kind
of society that 's better small. And we three
are the only ones who really ought to be
members, because we saw the play. But any-
how; you must promise not to tell unless
Rosalie and I give you permission. Do you
promise that? "
" Oh, yes ! I promise. What 's it for ? "
" We 're going to become sirens," Mae
whispered impressively. ' We 're going
to be beautiful and fascinating and ruth-
less—"
204
Society of Associated Sirens
" Like Cleopatra, " said Rosalie.
" And avenge ourselves on Man," added
Mae.
" Avenge ourselves — what for?" in-
quired Patty, somewhat dazed.
" Why — for — for — breaking our
hearts and destroying our faith in — "
" My heart has n't been broken."
" Not yet," said Mae with a touch of im-
patience, " because you don't know any men,
but you will know them some day, and then
your heart will be broken. You ought to
have your weapons ready."
" In time of peace prepare for war,"
quoted Rosalie.
" Do — you think it's quite ladylike to
be a siren? " asked Patty dubiously.
"It's perfectly ladylike!" said Mae.
" Nobody but a lady could possibly be one,
Did you ever hear of a washerwoman who
was a siren? "
" N-no," Patty confessed. " I don't be-
lieve I have."
" And look at Cleopatra," put in Rosalie.
M I 'm sure she was a lady."
205
Just Patty
" All right! " Patty agreed. " What are
we going to do? "
" We 're going to become beautiful and
fascinating, with a fatal charm that ensnares
every man who approaches."
" Do you think we can? " There was
some doubt in Patty's tone.
" Mae 's got a book," put in Rosalie
eagerly, " about ' Beauty and Grace.' You
soak your face in oatmeal and almond-oil and
honey, and let your hair hang in the sun, and
whiten your nose with lemon juice, and wear
gloves at night, and — "
" You really ought to have a bath of asses'
milk," interrupted Mae. " Cleopatra had;
but I 'm afraid it will be impossible to get."
" And you ought to learn to sing," added
Rosalie, " and have some one song like the
* Lorelei ! ' that you always hum when you 're
about to ensnare a victim."
The project was foreign to Patty's ordi°
nary train of thought, but it did have an ele-
ment of novelty and allurement. Neither
Mae nor Rosalie were the partners she would
naturally have chosen in any enterprise, but
206
Society of Associated Sirens
circumstances had thrown them together that
day, and Patty was an obliging soul. Also,
her natural common sense was wandering; she
was still under the spell of the Egyptian sor-
ceress.
They discussed the new society for several
minutes more, until they heard the murmur
of Miss Lord's voice, bidding Mademoiselle
goodnight.
"There's Lordy! " Patty whispered wa-
rily. " I think you 'd better go to bed. We
can plan the rest in the morning."
" Yes, let 's," said Rosalie, with a shiver.
" I 'm freezing ! "
" But we must first take the vow," insisted
Mae Mertelle. " We ought really to do it
at midnight — but maybe half-past ten will
do as well. I Ve got it all planned. You
two say it after me."
They joined hands and whispered in turn:
" I most solemnly promise to keep secret
the name and object of this society; and if I
break this oath, may I become freckled and
bald and squint-eyed and pigeon-toed, now
and forever more."
207
Just Patty
The three members of the S. A. S. devoted
their leisure during the next few days to a
careful study of the work on Beauty; and
painstakingly set about putting its precepts
into practice. Some of these seemed perplex-
ingly at variance. The hair, for example,
was to be exposed to air and sunlight, but the
face was not. They cleverly circumvented
this difficulty however. The week's allow-
ance went for chamois-skin. During every
recreation hour, they retired to an airy knoll
in the lower pasture, and sat in a patient
row, with hair streaming in the wind, and
faces protected by homemade masks.
One afternoon, a little Junior A, wandering
far afield in a game of hide-and-seek, came
upon them unawares; and returned to the safe
confines of the playground with frightened
shrieks. Dark rumors began to float about
the school as to the aim and scope of the new
society. Suggestion ranged all the way from
Indian squaws to Druid priestesses.
They almost met with disaster while ac-
quiring the ingredients of the oatmeal poul-
tice. The oatmeal and lemon were compar-
208
Society of Associated Sirens
atively easy; the cook supplied them without
much fuss. But she stuck at the honey.
There were jars and jars of strained honey in
'the storeroom ; but the windows were barred,
and the key was in the bottom of Nora's
pocket. Confronted by the immediate ne-
cessity of becoming beautiful, they could not
placidly sit down for five days, and wait for
the weekly shopping trip to the village. Be-
sides, with a teacher in attendance, there
would be no possible chance of making the
purchase. Honey was a contraband article,
in the same class with candy and jam and
pickles.
They discussed the feasibility of filing
through the iron gratings, or of chloroform-
ing Nora and stealing the key, but in the end
Patty accomplished the matter by the use of
a little simple blarney. She dropped into the
kitchen one afternoon with the plaintive ad-
mission that she was hungry. Nora hastened
to supply a glass of milk and a piece of bread
and butter, while Patty perched on a corner
of the carving-table and settled herself for
conversation. The girls were not supposed
14 209
Just Patty
to visit the kitchen, but the law was never
rigidly enforced. Nora was a social soul and
she welcomed callers. Patty praised the ap-
ple dumplings of last night's dessert; pro-
gressed from that to a discussion of the en-
gaging young plumber who at the moment
claimed all of Nora's thoughts; then, by a
natural transition, she passed to honey.
Before she left, she had obtained Nora's
promise to substitute it for marmalade the
next morning at breakfast.
The members of the S. A. S. brought pin-
trays to the meal, and unobtrusively trans-
ferred a supply from their plates to their
laps.
But even so, disaster still threatened.
Patty had the misfortune to collide with Eva-
lina Smith in the upper hall, and she dropped
her pin-tray, honey-side down, in the middle
of the rug. At the same instant, Miss Lord
bore down upon her from the end of the cor-
ridor. Patty was a young person of re-
source; the emergency of the moment rarely
found her napping. She plumped down on
her knees in the midst of the puddle, and with
210
Society of Associated Sirens
widespread skirts, commenced frantically
searching for an imaginary stick-pin.
" Is it necessary for you to block up the
entire hall? " was Miss Lord's only comment
as she passed.
The rug was happily reversible, and by the
simple process of turning it over, Patty satis-
factorily cleaned up the mess. The other
two girls were generous, and shared their
supply: so in the end she obtained her
honey.
For three wakeful nights they stuck to the
poultice — though perhaps it would be more
accurate to say that the poultice stuck to them.
In spite of many washings in hot water, their
faces became noticeably scaly.
Miss Sallie, who represented St. Ursula's
board of health, met Patty Wyatt in the hall
one morning. She took her by the chin and
turned her to the light. Patty squirmed em-
barrassedly.
" My dear child ! What is the matter
with your face? "
"I — I don't know — exactly. It seems
sort of — of — dandruffy."
211
Just Patty
" I should think it didl What have you
been eating? "
" Only what I get at meals," said Patty,
relievedly telling the truth.
" There 's something the matter with your
blood," diagnosed Miss Sallie. " What you
need is a tonic. I shall prescribe boneset
tea."
"Oh, Miss Sallie!" Patty earnestly re-
monstrated. " I don't need it, really. I 'm
sure I '11 be all right." She had tried boneset
tea before ; it was the bitterest brew that was
ever concocted.
When Miss Sallie met Mae Van Arsdale
suffering from the same complaint, and later
still, Rosalie Patton, she commenced to be
perturbed. The apple trees under her care
at the farm had been afflicted that spring
with San Jose scale, but she had hardly ex-
pected the disease to spread to the school
girls. That afternoon she superintended an
infusion of boneset, of gigantic proportions,
and at bedtime a reluctant school formed in
line and filed past Miss Sallie, who, ladle in
hand, presided over the punch bowl. Each
212
Each received a flowing cupful
Society of Associated Sirens
received a flowing cupful and drank it with
what grace she might, until Patty's turn came.
She disposed of hers in a blue china umbrella
holder which stood in the hall behind Miss
Sallie's back. The remainder of the line suc-
cessfully followed her lead.
Miss Sallie watched her little charges
closely for the next few days; and sure
enough, the scales disappeared. (The Asso-
ciated Sirens had discarded poultices.) She
was more than ever convinced of the efficacy
of boneset.
Shortly after the founding of the society,
Mae Mertelle returned from a week-end visit
to her home. (Her mother was ill and she
had been sent for. Someone in Mae's fam-
ily was conveniently ill a great deal of the
time. ) She brought with her three bracelets
of linked scales representing a serpent swal-
lowing his tail. S. A. S. in tiny letters was
engraved between the emerald eyes.
* They are perfectly sweet!" said Patty,
with grateful appreciation. " But why a
snake?"
" It isn't a snake; it's a serpent," Mae
213
Just Patty
explained. ;< To represent Cleopatra. She
was the Serpent of the Nile. We '11 be Ser-
pents of the Hudson."
With the appearance of the bracelets, curi-
osity in the S. A. S. increased, but unlike the
other secret societies which had appeared
from time to time, its raison d'etre remained
a mystery. The school really commenced to
believe that the society had a secret. Miss
Lord, who had the reputation of being
curious, stopped Patty one day as she was
leaving the Virgil class, and admired the new
bracelet.
" And what may be the meaning of S. A.
S. ? " she inquired.
" It 's a secret society," said Patty.
" Ah, a secret society!" Miss Lord
smiled. " Then I suppose the name is a
DEEP MYSTERY." She lowered her voice, as
she said it, to sepulchral depths.
There was something peculiarly irritating
about Miss Lord's manner; it always sug-
gested that she was amused by the vagaries
of her little pupils. She did not possess Miss
Sallie's happy faculty of meeting them on a
214
Society of Associated Sirens
level. Miss Lord peered down from above
(through lorgnettes).
" Of course the name is a secret," said
Patty. "If that got out, it would give the
whole thing away."
" And what is the object of this famous so-
ciety? Or is that too a secret? "
' Why, yes, that is, I must n't tell you ex-
actly."
Patty smiled up at Miss Lord with the in-
nocent, seraphic gaze that always warned
those who knew her best that it was wisest to
let her alone.
" It 's a sort of branch of the Sunshine So-
ciety," she added confidentially. " We 're to
— well — to smile on people, you know, and
make them like us."
" I see! " said Miss Lord, with an air of
friendly understanding. " Then S. A. S.
stands for ' Sunshine and Smiles? ' "
" Oh, please ! You must n't say it out
loud," Patty lowered her voice and threw
an anxious glance over her shoulder.
" I would n't tell anybody for worlds,"
Miss Lord promised solemnly.
215
Just Patty
" Thank you," said Patty. " It would be
dreadful if it got out."
" It is a very sweet, womanly society,"
Miss Lord added approvingly. " But you
ought not to keep it all to yourselves. Can't
you let me be an honorary member of the S.
A. S.?"
"Certainly, Miss Lord!" said Patty
sweetly. " If you care to belong, we should
love to have you."
" Lordy wants to be a Siren ! " she an-
nounced to her two fellow members when she
met them shortly in the gymnasium. The
account of the interview was received with
hilarity. Miss Lord was anything but the
accepted type of siren.
" I thought a few smiles might relieve the
gloom of Latin class," Patty explained. " It
amuses Lordy to think she 's helping the chil-
dren in their play ; and it does n't hurt the
children."
For a time the S. A. S. flourished with the
natural health of youth, but as the novelty
wore off, the business of becoming beautiful
grew onerous. Mae and Rosalie continued
216
Society of Associated Sirens
to study the beauty book with dogged perse-
verance,— the subject lay along the line of
their natural ambitions — but Patty felt other
matters calling. Spring field sports had com-
menced, and the nearness of the annual match
with Highland-Hall, crowded out her interest
in cold cream and almond meal. She and
Mae were not naturally simpatica, and in
spite of Mae's insistence, Patty became an
apathetic siren.
One Saturday just after the spring recess,
Patty received permission to lunch in town
with " Uncle Bobby." He was an uncle by
courtesy only, but Patty had failed to inform
the Dowager that the title was not his by
natural right. She knew well what the result
would be. It is quite proper to have luncheon
with an uncle; and quite improper with even
the oldest and baldest of family friends.
When the " hearse " returned from the sta-
tion at dusk with Mademoiselle and the city
contingent, Rosalie Patton was waiting the
arrival on the porte cochere. She separated
Patty from the group and whispered in her
ear.
217
Just Patty
" The most awful thing has happened! >:
"What?" Patty demanded.
11 The S. A. S. All is discovered! "
" Not really! " cried Patty, aghast.
"Yes! Come in here."
Rosalie drew her into the empty cloak»
room and shut the door.
" You mean — they Ve found out the
name — and everything?" Patty demanded
breathlessly.
" Not quite everything, but they would
have if it had n't been for Lordy. She saved
us."
" Lordy saved us ! " There was incre-
dulity mixed with Patty's horror. " What do
you mean? "
" Well, yesterday, Mae went shopping in
the village with Miss Wadsworth — and you
know what kind of a chaperone Waddy
makes." Patty nodded impatiently. " Any-
body could fool her. And Mae, right under
her very nose, commenced a flirtation with
the Soda-Water Clerk."
"Oh!" said Patty hotly, "How per-
fectly horrid I"
218
Society of Associated Sirens
" She did n't care anything about it, really.
She was just trying to put the principles of
the S. A. S. into practice."
" She might at least have picked out some-
body decent! "
" Well, he is quite decent. He 's engaged
to the girl at the underwear counter in Blood-
good's, and he did n't want to be flirted with
a bit. But you know how persistent Mae
Mertelle is, when she makes up her mind.
The poor young man just could n't help him-
self. He was so embarrassed that he did n't
know what he was doing. He gave Hester
Pringle half chocolate and half sarsaparilla,
and she says it was a perfectly awful combina-
tion. It made her feel so sick that she
could n't eat any dinner. And all this time
Waddy just sat and smiled into space and
saw nothing; but all the girls saw, — and so
did the drugstore man!"
" Oh! " said Patty breathlessly.
" And this morning Miss Sallie went to the
drugstore to get some potash for Harriet
Gladden's sore throat, and he told her all
about it."
219
Just Patty
" What did Miss Sallie do? " Patty asked
faintly.
" Do! She came back with blood in her
eye, and told the Dowager, and they called up
Mae Mertelle and then — " Rosalie closed
her eyes and shuddered.
" Well," said Patty impatiently. " What
happened? "
;< The Dowager was perfectly outraged!
She told Mae that she had disgraced the
school and that she would be expelled. And
she wrote a telegram to Mae's father to come
and take her away. And she asked Mae if
she had anything to say for herself, and Mae
said it was n't her fault. That you and I
were to blame just as much as she, because
we were all in a society together, but that
she could n't tell about it because she 'd
sworn."
" Beast ! " said Patty.
" So then they sent for me and commenced
asking questions about the S. A. S. I tried
not to tell, but you know the way the Dow-
ager looks when she 's angry. Even a
sphinx would break down and tell everything
220
Society of Associated Sirens
it knew, and I never did pretend to be a
sphinx.'*
" All right," said Patty, bracing herself for
the shock. " What did they say when they
heard?"
"They didn't hear! I was just on the
point of breaking my vows and telling all,
when who should pop in but Lordy. And
she was perfectly splendid! She said she
knew all about the S. A. S. That it was a
very admirable institution, and that she was
a member herself! She said it was a branch
of the Sunshine Society, and that Mae had
never meant to flirt with the young man.
She had just meant to smile and be kind to
everybody she came in contact with, and he
had taken advantage. And Mae said, yes,
that was the way of it, and she shoved off all
the blame on that poor innocent soda-water
clerk."
" Just like her," Patty nodded.
" And now Mae is perfectly furious with
him for getting her into trouble. She says
that he 's a horrid little thing with a turn-up
nose, and that she '11 never drink another
221
Just Patty
glass of soda-water, as long as she stays In
St. Ursula's."
"And they're going to let her stay?"
" Yes. The Dowager tore up the tele-
gram. But she gave Mae ten demerits, and
made her go without dessert for a week, and
learn Thanatopsis by heart. 'And she can't
jver go shopping in the village any more.
When she needs new hair ribbons or stock-
ings or anything, she must send for them by
some of the other girls."
" And what 's the Dowager going to do
to us?"
" Nothing at all — and if it had n't been
for Lordy, we 'd all three have been ex-
pelled."
" And I Ve always detested Lordy," said
Patty contritely. " Is n't it dreadful? You
simply can't keep enemies. Just as you think
people are perfectly horrid, and begin to en-
joy hating them, they all of a sudden turn out
nice."
" I hate Mae Mertelle," said Rosalie.
" So do I! " Patty agreed cordially.
" I 'm going to leave her old society."
222
Society of Associated Sirens
" I 'm already out." Patty glanced to-
ward the mirror. " And I 'm not freckled
and I 'm not squint-eyed "
"What do you mean?" Rosalie stared;
she had for the moment forgotten the dread
nature of the oath.
" I Ve told Uncle Bobby."
" Oh, Patty ! How could you ? "
"I — I — that is — " Patty appeared
momentarily confused. " You see," she con-
fessed, " I thought myself that it would be
sort of interesting to practice on somebody,
so I — I — just tried — "
" And did he — "
Patty shook her head.
" It was awfully uphill work. He never
helped a bit. And then he noticed my brace-
let and wanted to knew what S. A. S. meant.
And before I knew it, I was telling him ! "
"What did he say?"
"First he roared; then he got awfully
sober, and he gave me a long lecture — it was
really very impressive — sort of like Sun-
day School, you know. And he took the
bracelet away from me and put it in his
223
Just Patty
pocket. He told me he 'd send me something
nicer."
"What do you s'pose it will be?" asked
Rosalie interestedly.
" I hope it won't be a doll I "
Two days later the morning mail brought
a small parcel for Miss Patty Wyatt. She
opened it under her desk in geometry class.
Buried in jeweler's cotton she found a gold
linked bracelet that fastened with a padlock
ia the shape of a heart. On the back of one
of Uncle Bobby's cards was written : —
" This is your heart. Keep it locked until
the chap turns up who has the key."
Patty deflected Rosalie as she was turning
into French and privately exhibited the brace-
let.
Rosalie regarded it with sentimental in-
terest.
"What has he done with the key?" she
wondered.
" I s'pose," said Patty, " he 's got it in his
pocket."
"How awfully romantic!"
224
Society of Associated Sirens
" It sounds sort of romantic/' Patty agreed
with the suggestion of a sigh. " But it is n't
really. He 's thirty years old, and beginning
to be bald."
IX
The Reformation of
Kid McCoy
IX
The Reformation of
Kid McCoy
ISS McCOY, of Texas, had
been subjected to the soften-
ing influences of St. Ursula's
School for three years, with-
out any perceptible result. She was the
toughest little tomboy that was ever received
— and retained — in a respectable boarding-
school.
" Margarite " was the name her parents
had chosen, when the itinerant bishop made
his quarterly visit to the mining-camp where
she happened to be born. It was the name
still used by her teachers, and on the written
reports that were mailed monthly to her
Texas guardian. But " Kid " was the more
appropriate name that the cowboys on the
229
Just Patty
ranch had given her; and "Kid" she re-
mained at St. Ursula's, in spite of the dis-
tressed expostulation of the ladies in charge.
Kid's childhood had been picturesque to a
degree rarely found outside the pages of a
Nick Carter novel. She had possessed an
adventurous father, who drifted from min-
ing-camp to mining-camp, making fortunes
and losing them. She had cut her teeth on
a poker chip, and drunk her milk from a
champagne glass. Her father had died —
quite opportunely — while his latest fortune
was at its height, and had left his little
daughter to the guardianship of an English
friend who lived in Texas. The next three
turbulent years of her life were spent on a
cattle range with " Guardie," and the ensu-
ing three in the quiet confines of St. Ursula's.
The guardian had brought her himself,
and after an earnest conference with the
Dowager, had left her behind to be molded
by the culture of the East. But so far, the
culture of the East had left her untouched.
If any molding had taken place, it was Kid
herself who shaped the clay.
230
Reformation of Kid McCoy
Her spicy reminiscences of mining-camps
and cattle ranches made all permissible works
of fiction tame. She had given the French
dancing master, who was teaching them a
polite version of a Spanish waltz, an exposi-
tion of the real thing, as practised by the
Mexican cow-punchers on her guardian's
ranch. It was a performance that left him
sympathetically breathless. The English
riding master, who came weekly in the spring
and autumn, to teach the girls a correct trot,
had received a lesson in bareback riding that
caused the dazed query :
'* Was the young lady trained in a circus? "
The Kid was noisy and slangy and romp-
ing and boisterous; her way was beset with
reproofs and demerits and minor punish-
ments, but she had never yet been guilty of
any actual felony. For three years, how-
ever, St. Ursula's had been holding its breath
waiting for the crash. Miss McCoy, from
her very nature, was bound to give them a
sensation sometime.
When at last it came, it was of, an entirely
unexpected order..
231
Just Patty
Rosalie Patton was the Kid's latest room-
mate — she wore her room-mates out as fast
as she did her shoes. Rosalie was a lovable
little soul, the essence of everything feminine.
The Dowager had put the two together, in
the hope that Rosalie's gentle example might
calm the Kid's tempestuous mood. But so
far, the Kid was in her usual spirits, while
Rosalie was looking worn.
Then the change came.
Rosalie burst into Patty Wyatt's room one
evening in a state of wide-eyed amazement.
" What do you think? " she cried. " Kid
McCoy says she 's going to be a lady ! "
11 A what?" Patty emerged from the
bath towel with which she had been polishing
her face.
" A lady. She 's sitting down now, run-
ning pale blue baby ribbon through the em-
broidery in her night gown."
" What 's happened to her? " was Patty's
question.
" She 's been reading a book that Mae
Mertelle brought back."
Rosalie settled herself, Turk fashion, on
232
Reformation of Kid McCoy
the window seat, disposed the folds of her
pink kimono in graceful billows about her
knees, and allowed two braids of curly yel-
low hair to hang picturesquely over her
shoulders. She was ready for bed and could
extend her call until the last stroke of the
" Lights-out " bell.
"What kind of a book?" asked Patty,
with a slightly perfunctory note in her
voice.
Rosalie was apt to burst into one's room
with a startling announcement and then,
having engaged everybody's attention, settle
down to an endless, meandering recital
sprinkled with anti-climaxes.
" It 's about a sweet young English girl
whose father owned a tea estate in Asia —
or maybe Africa. But anyway, where it was
hot, and there were a lot of natives and
snakes and centipedes. Her mother died
and she was sent back home to boarding-
school when she was a tiny little thing. Her
father was quite bad. He drank and swore
and smoked. The only thing that kept him
from being awfully bad, was the thought of
233
Just Patty
his sweet little golden-haired daughter in
England."
" Well, what of it? " Patty inquired, po-
litely suppressing a yawn. Rosalie had a
way of trailing off into golden-haired senti-
ment if one did n't haul her up sharp.
" Just wait ! I 'm coming to it. When
she was seventeen she went back to India to
take care of her father, but almost right off
he got a sunstroke and died. And on his
death-bed he entrusted Rosamond — that
was her name — to his best friend to finish
bringing up. So then Rosamond went to
live with her guardian, and took charge
of his bungalow and made it beautiful and
homelike and comfortable — she would n't
let him drink or smoke or swear any more.
And as he looked back over the past — "
" He was eaten with remorse at the
thought of the wasted years," Patty glibly
supplied, " and wished that he had lived so
as to be more worthy of the sweet, womanly
influence that had come into his wicked lifo."
" You Ve read it! " said Rosalie.
" Not that I know of," said Patty.
234
Reformation of Kid McCoy
" Anyway," said Rosalie, with an air of
challenge, " they fell in love and were mar-
ried—"
" And her father and mother, looking
down from heaven, smiled a blessing on the
dear little daughter who had brought so
much happiness to a lonely heart? "
" Um — yes," agreed Rosalie, doubt-
fully.
There was no amount of sentiment that
she would not swallow, but she knew from
mortifying experience that Patty was not
equally voracious.
" It 's a very touching story," Patty com-
mented, " but where does Kid McCoy come
in?"
" Why, don't you see? " Rosalie's violet
eyes were big with interest. " It 's exactly
Kid's own story! I realized it the minute
I saw the book, and I had the awfulest time
making her read it. She made fun of it
at first, but after she 'd really got into it, she
appreciated the resemblance. She says now
it was the Hand of Fate."
11 Kid's story? What are you talking
235
Just Patty
about? " Patty was commencing to be inter-
ested.
" Kid has a wicked English guardian just
like the Rosamond in the book. Anyway,
he 's English, and she thinks probably he 's
wicked. Most ranchmen are. He lives all
alone with only cow-punchers for compan-
ions, and he needs a sweet womanly influ-
ence in his home. So Kid 's decided to be a
lady, and go back and marry Guardie, and
make him happy for the rest of his life."
Patty laid herself on the bed and rolled
in glee. Rosalie rose and regarded her with
a touch of asperity.
" I don't see anything so funny — 7 think
it 's very romantic."
" Kid exerting a sweet womanly influ-
ence ! " Patty gurgled. " She can't even pre-
tend she 's a lady for an hour. If you think
she can stay one — "
" Love," pronounced Rosalie, " has ac-
complished greater wonders than that — you
wait and see."
And the school did see. Kid McCoy's ref-
ormation became the sensation of the year.
236
Reformation of Kid McCoy
The teachers attributed the felicitous change
in her deportment to the good influence of
Rosalie, and though they were extremely re-
lieved, they did not expect it to last. But
week followed week, and it did last.
Kid McCoy no longer answered to " Kid."
She requested her friends to call her " Mar-
garite." She dropped slang and learned to
embroider; she sat through European Travel
and Art History nights with clasped hands
and a sweetly pensive air, where she used to
drive her neighbors wild by a solid hour of
squirming. Voluntarily, she set herself to
practising scales. The reason she confided
to Rosalie, and Rosalie to the rest of the
school.
They needed the softening influence of
music on the ranch. One-eyed Joe played
the accordion, and that was all the music they
had. The school saw visions of the trans-
formed Margarite, dressed in white, sitting
before the piano in the twilight singing
softly the " Rosary," while Guardie watched
her with folded arms; and the cowboys, with
bowie knives sheathed in their boots, and
237
Just Patty
lariats peacefully coiled over their shoulders,
gathered by the open window.
Lenten services that year, instead of being
forcibly endured by a rebellious Kid, were
attended by a sweetly reverent Margarite.
The entire school felt an electric thrill at
sight of Miss McCoy walking up the aisle
with downcast eyes, and hands demurely
clasping her prayer book. Usually she
looked as much in place in the stained-glass
atmosphere of Trinity Chapel as an un-
broken broncho colt.
This amazing reform continued for seven
weeks. The school was almost beginning to
forget that there was ever a time when Kid
McCoy was not a lady.
Then one day a letter came from Guardie
with the news that he was coming East to
visit his little girl. Subdued excitement pre-
vailed in the South Corridor. Rosalie and
Margarite and an assemblage of neighbors
held earnest conferences as to what she
should wear and how she should behave.
They finally decided upon white muslin and
blue ribbons. They pondered a long time
238
Reformation of Kid McCoy
over whether or not she should kiss him, but
Rosalie decided in the negative.
" When he sees you," she explained, " the
realization will sweep over him that you are
no longer a child. You have grown to
womanhood in the past three years. And he
will feel unaccountably shy in your presence."
" Um," said Margarite, with a slightly
doubtful note. " I hope so."
It was on a Sunday that Guardie arrived.
The school — in a body — flattened its nose
against the window watching his approach.
They had rather hoped for a flannel shirt
and boots and spurs, and, in any case, for a
sombrero. But the horrible truth must be
told. He wore a frock coat of the most un-
impeachable cut, with a silk hat and a stick,
and a white gardenia in his buttonhole. To
look at him, one would swear that he had
never seen a pistol or a lariat. He was born
to pass the plate in church.
But the worst is still to tell.
He had planned a surprise for his little
ward. When she should come back to the
ranch, it would be to a real home. A sweet,
239
Just Patty
womanly influence would have transformed
it into a fitting abode for a young girl.
Guardie was not alone. He was accom-
panied by his bride — a tall, fair, beautiful
woman with a low voice and gracious man-
ners. She sang for the girls after dinner,
and as sixty-four pairs of eyes studied the
beautiful presence, sixty-four — no, sixty-
three — of her auditors decided to grow up
to be exactly like her. Margarite did the
honors in a state of dazed incomprehension.
Her make-believe world of seven weeks had
crumbled in an hour, and she had not had
time to readjust herself. Never — she re-
alized it perfectly — could she have com-
peted in femininity with Gusifdie's wife. It
was n't in her, not even if she had commenced
to practise from the cradle.
They went back to the city in the evening,
and before the entire school, Guardie patted
her on the head and told her to be a good
little kiddie and mind her teachers. His
wife, with a protecting arm about her shoul-
ders, kissed her forehead and called her
" dear little daughter."
240
Reformation of Kid McCoy
After evensong on Sundays, came two
hours of freedom. The teachers gathered
in the Dowager's study for coffee and con-
versation, and the girls presumably wrote
letters home. But that night, the South Cor-
ridor followed no such peaceful occupation.
Margarite McCoy experienced a reversion to
type. In her own picturesque language, she
" shot up the town."
The echoes of the orgie at last reached the
kaffee klatsch below. Miss Lord came to
investigate — and she came on her tiptoes.
Miss McCoy, arrayed in a sometime pie*
ture hat cocked over one ear, a short gymna-
sium skirt, scarlet stockings and a scarlet
sash, was mounted upon a table, giving an
imitation of a clog dance in a mining-camp,
.while her audience played rag-time on combs
and clapped.
" Margarite I Get down ! " someone sud-
denly warned in frightened tones above die
uproar.
* You need n't call me Margarite. I 'ra
Kid McCoy of Cripple Creek."
Her eye caught sight of Miss Lord tower-
16 241
Just Patty
Ing above the heads crowded in the doorway
and she quite suddenly climbed down. For
once, Miss Lord was without words. She
stared for a space of three minutes; finally,
she managed to articulate:
" Sunday evening in a Church school! "
The audience dispersed, and Miss Lord
and Miss McCoy remained alone. Rosalie
fled to the farthermost reaches of Paradise
Alley and discussed possible punishments
with Patty and Conny for a trembling hour.
" Lights-out " had rung before she summoned
courage to steal back to the darkened South
Corridor. The sound of smothered sobbing
came from Margarite's bed. Rosalie sank
down on her knees and put her arm around
her room-mate. The sobbing ceased while
Margarite rigidly held her breath.
" Kid," she comforted, " don't mind
Lordie — she 's a horrid, snooping old thing !
.What did she say? "
" I 'm not to leave bounds for a month,
have to learn five psalms by heart and takfe
f-fifty demerits."
"Fifty! It's a perfect shame! You '11
242
Reformation of Kid McCoy
never work them off. She had no right to
make a fuss when you 'd been good so long."
" I don't care ! " said Kid, fiercely, as she
struggled to free herself from Rosalie's em-
brace. " She '11 never have a chance again
to call me her sweet little daughter."
24S
X
Onions and Orchids
X
Onions and Orchids
HE perimeters of similar poly-
gons are as their homologous
sides."
Patty dreamily assured her-
self of this important truth for the twentieth
time, as she sat by the open schoolroom
window, her eyes on the billowing whiteness
of the cherry tree which had burst into blos-
som overnight.
It was particularly necessary that she
should finish her lessons with dispatch, be-
cause it was Saturday, and she was going to
the city with Mademoiselle's party to spend
an hour in the dentist's chair. But the
weather was not conducive to concentrated
effort. After an hour of half-hearted study,
she closed her geometry, and started upstairs
247
Just Patty
to dress, leaving the stay-at-homes to another
hour of work.
She started upstairs; but she did not get
very far on the way. As she passed the open
door that led to the back porch, she stepped
outside to examine the cherry tree at close
range; then she strolled the length of the
pergola to see how the wistaria was coming
on ; from there, it was just a step to the lane,
with its double row of pink-tipped apple trees.
Before she knew it, Patty found herself sit-
ting on the stone wall at the end of the lower
pasture. Behind her lay the confines of St.
Ursula's. Before her the World.
She sat on the top of the wall, and dangled
her feet out of bounds. The very most scan-
dalous crime one could commit at St. Ursula's
was to go out of bounds without permission.
Patty sat and gazed at the forbidden land.
She knew that she had no time to waste if she
were to catch the hearse and the train and the
dentist's chair. But still she sat and
dreamed. Finally, far across the fields on
the highroad, she spied the hearse bowling
merrily to the station. Then it occurred to
248
Onions and Orchids
her that she had forgotten to report to Ma-
demoiselle that she was going, and that Ma-
demoiselle, accordingly, would not be missing
her. At the school, of course, they would
think that she had gone, and likewise would
not be missing her. Without any premedi-
tated iniquity, she was free !
She sat a few moments longer to let the
feeling penetrate. Then she slid over the
wall and started — a joyous young mutineer,
seeking adventure. Following the cheery
course of the brook, she dipped into a tangled
-avine and a stretch of woodland, raced down
a hillside and across a marshy meadow, leap-
ing gaily from hummock to hummock — oc-
casionally missing and going in. She laughed
aloud at these misadventures, and waved her
arms and romped with the wind. In addition
to the delicious sense of feeling free, was
added the delicious sense of feeling bad. The
combination was intoxicating.
And so, always following the stream, she
came at last to another wood — not a wild
wood like the first, but a tame, domesticated
wood. The dead limbs were cut away, and
249
Just Patty
the ground was neatly brushed up under the
trees. The brook flowed sedately between
fern-bordered banks, under rustic bridges, and
widened occasionally into pools carpeted with
lily pads. Mossy paths set with stepping-
stones led off into mysterious depths that the
eye could not penetrate: the leaves were just
out enough to half hide and to tantalize. The
grass was starred with crocuses. It looked
like an enchanted wood in a fairy tale.
This second wood, however, was bordered
by a solid stone wall, and on top of the wall,
by four strands of barbed wire. Signs ap-
peared at intervals — three were visible from
where Patty stood — stating that these were
private grounds, and that trespassers would be
prosecuted to the full extent of the law.
Patty knew well to whom it belonged ; she
had often passed the front gates which faced
on the other road. The estate was celebrated
in the neighborhood, in the United States, for
the matter of that. It comprised 500 acres
and belonged to a famous — or infamous — •
multi-millionaire. His name was Silas
iWeatherby, and he was the originator of ?
250
Onions and Orchids
great many Wicked Corporations. He had
beautiful conservatories full of tropical
plants, a sunken Italian garden, an art collec-
L'ion and picture gallery. He was a crusty
old codger always engaged in half-a-dozen
lawsuits. He hated the newspapers, and the
newspapers hated him. He was in particu-
larly bad repute at St. Ursula's, because, in
response to a politely couched note from the
principal, asking that the art class might view
his Botticelli and the botany class his orchids,
he had ungraciously replied that he could n't
have a lot of school girls running over his
place — if he let them come one year, he
would have to let them come another, and he
did n't wish to establish a precedent.
Patty looked at the " No Trespassing "
signs and the barbed wire, and she looked at
the wood beyond. They could n't do any-
thing if they did catch her, she reasoned, ex-
cept turn her out. People were n't jailed
nowadays for taking a peaceable walk in
other people's woods. Besides, the million-
aire person was attending a directors' meeting
in Chicago. This bit of neighborhood gos-
251
Just Patty
sip she had gleaned that morning in her
weekly perusal of the daily press — Saturday
night at dinner they were supposed to talk on
current topics, so Saturday morning they
glanced at the headlines and an editorial.
Since the family were not at home, why not
drop in and inspect the Italian garden ? The
servants were doubtless more polite than the
master.
She selected a portion of the wall where
the wire seemed slack, and wriggled under,
stomach-wise, tearing only a small hole in the
shoulder of her blouse. She played with the
enchanted wood half an hour or so; then fol-
lowing a path, she quite suddenly left the
wood behind, and popped out into a garden
— not a flower garden, but a kitchen garden
on an heroic scale. Neat plots of sprouting
vegetables were bordered by currant bushes,
and the whole was surrounded by a high brick
;wall, against which pear trees were trained
in the English fashion.
A gardener was engaged, with his back to-
ward Patty, in setting out baby onions. She
studied him dubiously, divided between a
252
Onions and Orchids
prompting to run, and a social instinct of
friendliness. He was an extremely pictur-
esque gardener, dressed in knickerbockers and
leather gaiters, with a touch of red in his
waistcoat, and a cardigan jacket and a cap
on the side of his head. He did not look
very affable; but he did look rheumatic —
even if he chased her, she was sure that she
could run faster than he. So she settled her-
self on his wheelbarrow and continued to
watch him, while she pondered an opening
remark.
He glanced up suddenly and caught sight
of her. The surprise nearly tipped him
over.
" Good morning! " said Patty pleasantly.
" Ugh! " grunted the man. " What are
you doing there? "
;< Watching you plant onions."
This struck Patty as a self-evident truth,
but she was perfectly willing to state it.
He grunted again as he straightened his
back and took a step toward her.
:t Where 'd you come from?" he de-
manded gruffly.
253
Just Patty
" Over there." Patty waved her hand
largely to westward.
" Humph ! " he remarked. " You belong
to that school — Saint Something or Other ? "
She acknowledged it. Saint Ursula's
monogram was emblazoned large upon her
sleeve.
" Do they know you 're out? "
" No," she returned candidly, " I don't
believe they do. I am quite sure of it in
fact. They think I Ve gone to the dentist's
with Mam'selle, and she thinks I 'm at school.
So it leaves me entirely at leisure. I thought
I 'd come over and see what Mr. Weatherby's
Italian garden looks like. I 'm interested in
Italian gardens."
" Well I '11 be — ! " He commenced, and
came a trifle nearer and stared again. " Did
you happen to see any ' No Trespassing *
signs as you came through? "
" Mercy, yes ! The whole place is pep-
pered with 'em."
' They don't seem to have impressed you
much."
" Oh, I never pay any attention to ' No
254
Onions and Orchids
Trespassing' signs," said Patty easily.
" You 'd never get anywhere in this world if
you let them bother you."
The man unexpectedly chuckled.
" I don't believe you would! " he agreed.
" I Ve never let them bother me," he added
meditatively.
"Can't I help you plant your onions?"
Patty asked politely. It struck her that this
might be the quickest route to the Italian
garden.
" Why, yes, thank you ! "
He accepted her offer with unexpected cor-
diality, and gravely explained the mode of
work. The onions were very tiny, and they
must be set right-side up with great care ; be-
cause it is very difficult for an embryonic
onion to turn itself over after it has once got
started in the wrong direction.
Patty grasped the business very readily/
and followed along in the next row three feet
behind him. It turned out sociable work;
by the end of fifteen minutes they were quite
old friends. The talk ranged far — over
philosophy and life and morals. He had a
Just Patty
very decided opinion on every subject — she
put him down as Scotch — he seemed a well-
informed old fellow though, and he read the
papers. Patty had also read the paper that
morning. She discoursed at some length
upon whether or not corporations should be
subject to state control. She stoutly agreed
with her editor that they should. He main-
tained that they were like any other private
property, and that it was nobody's damned
business how they managed themselves.
" A penny, please," said Patty, holding
out her hand.
" A penny ? — what for ? "
' That ' damn/ Every time you use slang
or bad grammar you have to drop a penny in
the charity box. ' Damn ' is much worse
than slang ; it 's swearing. I ought to charge
you five cents, but since this is the first of-
fense, I '11 let you off with one."
He handed over his penny, and Patty
gravely pocketed it.
'* What sort of things do you learn in that
school?" he inquired with a show of curi-
osity.
256
Onions and Orchids
She obligingly furnished a sample:
"The perimeters of similar polygons are
as their homologous sides."
" You will find that useful," he commented
with the suggestion of a twinkle in his eye.
"Very," she agreed — "on examination
day."
After half an hour, onion-planting grew
to be wearying work; but Patty was bound to
be game, and stick to her job as long as he
did. Finally, however, the last onion was
in, and the gardener rose and viewed the neat
rows with some satisfaction.
"That will do for to-day," he declared;
" we Ve earned a rest."
They sat down, Patty on the wheelbarrow,
the man on an upturned tub.
" How do you like working for Mr.
Weatherby?" she inquired. "Is he as bad
as the papers make out? "
The gardener chuckled slightly as he
lighted his pipe.
" Well," he said judiciously, " he 's always
been very decent to me, but I don't know as
his enemies have any cause to love him."
17
Just Patty
" I think he 's horrid! " said Patty.
" Why? " asked the man with a slight air
of challenge. He was quite willing to run
his master down himself, but he would not
permit an outsider to do it.
" He 's so terribly stingy with his old con-
servatories. The Dowager — I mean Mrs~
Trent, the principal, you know — wrote and
asked him to let the botany class see his:
orchids, and he was just as rude as he could
be!"
" I 'm sure he did n't mean it," the man
apologized.
"Oh, yes, he did!" maintained Patty.
" He said he could n't have a lot of school
girls running through and breaking down his
vines — as if we would do such a thing ! We
have perfectly beautiful manners. We learn
'em every Thursday night."
" Maybe he was a little rude," he agreed.
" But you see, he has n't had your advantages,
Miss. He didn't learn his manners in a
young ladies' boarding-school."
" He did n't learn them anywhere," Patty
shrugged.
258
Onions and Orchids
The gardener took a long pull at his pipe
and studied the horizon with narrowed eyes.
"It is n't quite fair to judge him the way
you would other people," he said slowly.
" He 's had a good deal of trouble in his life;
and nov/ he 's old, and I dare say pretty lonely
sometimes. All the world 's against him —
when people are decent, he knows it 's because
they 're after something. Your teacher, now,
is polite when she wants to see his conserva-
tories, but I '11 bet she believes he 's an old
thief!"
" Is n't he? " asked Patty.
The man grinned slightly.
" He has his moments of honesty like the
rest of us."
" Perhaps," Patty grudgingly conceded,
" he may not be so bad when you know him.
It 's often the way. Now, ther^ was
Lordy, our Latin teacher. I used to despise
her ; and then — in the hour of trial — jhe
came up to the scratch, and was per»fect-ly
bully!"
He held out his hand.
" A penny."
259
Just Patty
Patty handed him back his own.
" She kept me from getting expelled — she
did, really. I Ve never been able to hate
her since. And you know, I miss it dread-
fully. It 's sort of fun having an enemy."
" I Ve had a good many," he nodded,
" and I Ve always managed to enjoy
them."
" And probably they 're really quite nice? "
she suggested.
" Oh, yes," he agreed, " the worst crim-
inals are often very pleasant people when you
see their right side."
"Yes, that's true," said Patty. "It's
mainly chance that makes people bad — I
know it is in my own case. This morning
for instance, I got up with every intention of
learning my geometry and going to the
dentist's — and yet — here I am ! And so/1
she pointed a moral, " you always ought to
be kind to criminals and remember that under
different circumstances you might have been
in jail yourself."
" That thought," he acknowledged, " has
often occurred to me. I — we — that is,"
260
Onions and Orchids
he resumed after a "ncment of amused medi-
tation, " Mr. ~Veatherby believes in giving a
man a chance. If you have any convict
friends, who are looking for a job, this is the
place to send them. We used to have a cat-
tle thief taking care of -he cows, and a mur-
derer in charge of the orchids."
" What fun! " cried Patty. " Have you
got him now? I should love to see a mur-
derer."
" He left some time ago. The place was
too slow for him."
" How long have you been working for
Mr. Weatherby?" she asked.
" A good .nany years — and I Ve worked
hard! " he added, -.1th a clight air of chal-
lenge.
" I hope he appreciates you? *
" Yes, I /.link on the whole lhat he does. '
He knocked the ashes from liis pipe and
rose.
" And now," he suggested, " should you
like me to :how you the Italian garden? "
" Oh, yes," said Patty, " if you think Mr,
iWeatherby would n't mind."
261
Just Patty
" I 'm head gardener. I do what I
please."
" If you 're head gardener, what makes
you plant onions? "
" It 's tiresome work — good for my char-
acter."
"Oh!" Patty laughed.
" And then you see, when I have a tend-
ency to overwork the men .under me, I stop
and think how my own back ached."
1 You 're much too nice a man to work for
him ! " she pronounced approvingly.
" Thank ye, Miss," he touched his hat with
a grin.
The Italian garden was a fascinating spot,
with marble steps and fountains and clipped
yew trees.
" Oh, I wish Conny could see it! " Patty
cried.
"And who is she?"
" Conny 's my room-mate. She 's awfully
interested in gardens this year, because she 's
going to get the botany prize for analyzing
the most plants — at least, I think she 's
going to get it. It 's between her and Keren
262
Onions and Orchids
Hersey; all the rest of the class have dropped
out. Mae Van Arsdale is working against
Conny, to spite me, because I would n't stay
in an old secret society that she started. She
gets orchids from the city and gives them to
Keren."
" H'm," he frowned over this tangle of in-
trigue. "Is it entirely fair for the rest to
help?"
" Oh, yes! " said Patty. " They have to
do the analyzing, but their friends can collect
and paste. Every time anybody goes for a
walk, she comes back with her blouse stuffed
full of specimens for either Conny or Keren.
The nice girls are for Conny. Keren 's an
awful dig. She wears eye-glasses and thinks
she knows everything."
" I 'm for Miss Conny myself," he de-
clared. " Is there any way in which I could
help?"
Patty glanced about tentatively.
* You have quite a number of plants," she
suggested, " that Conny has n't got in her
book."
* You shall take back as many as you can
263
Just Patty
carry," he promised. ' We '11 pay a visit to
the orchid house."
They left the garden behind, and turned
toward the glass roofs of the conservatories.
Patty was so entertained, that she had en-
tirely forgotten the passage of time, until she
came face to face with a clock in the gable
of the carriage house; then she suddenly re-
alized that St. Ursula's luncheon had been
served three quarters of an hour before —
and that she was in a starving condition.
" Oh, goodness gracious ! I forgot all
about luncheon ! "
" Is it a very grave crime to forget about
luncheon? "
" Well," said Patty, with a sigh, " I sort of
miss it."
" I might furnish you with enough to sus-
tain life for a short time," he suggested.
" Oh, could you? " she asked relievedly.
She was accustomed to having a table/
spread three times a day, and she cared little
who furnished it.
" Just some milk," she said modestly, " and
some bread and butter and — er — cookies.
264
Onions and Orchids
Then, you see, I won't have to go back till
four o'clock when they come from the sta-
tion, and maybe I can slip in without being
missed."
" You just wait in the pavilion, and I '11
see what the gardener's cottage can sup-
ply."
He was back in fifteen minutes, chuckling
as he lugged a big hamper.
" We '11 have a picnic," he proposed.
" Oh, let 's ! " said Patty joyously. She
did not mind eating with him in the least, for
he had washed his hands, and appeared quite
clean.
She helped him unpack the hamper and set
the table in. the little pavilion beside the foun-
tain. He had lettuce sandwiches, a pat of
cottage cheese, a jug of milk, orange marma-
lade, sugar cookies, and gingerbread hot from
the oven.
" What a perfectly bully spread!" she
cried.
He held out his hand.
" Another penny! "
Patty peered into an empty pocket.
265
Just Patty
" You '11 have to charge it. I Ve used up
all my ready money."
The spring sun was warm, the fountain
was splashing, the wind was sprinkling the
pavilion floor with white magnolia petals.
Patty helped herself to marmalade with a
happy sigh of contentment.
" The most fun in the world is to run away
from the things you ought to do/' she pro-
nounced.
He acknowledged this immoral truth with
a laugh.
"I suppose you ought to be working?"
she asked.
:>l There are one or two little matters that
might be the better for my attention."
" And are n't you glad you 're not doing
them?"
"Bully glad!"
She held out her hand.
" Give it back."
The cent returned to her pocket, and the
meal progressed gaily. Patty was in an
elated frame of mind, and Patty's elation
was catching. Escaping from bounds, tres-
266
Onions and Orchids
passing on a private estate, planting onions,
and picnicking in the Italian garden with the
head gardener — she had never had such a
dizzying whirl of adventures. The head gar-
dener also seemed to enjoy the sensation of
offering sanctuary to a runaway school
girl. Their appreciation of the lark was
mutual.
As Patty, with painstaking honesty, was
dividing the last of the gingerbread into two
exact halves, she was startled by the sound of
a footstep on the gravel path behind; and
there walked into their party a groom — a
crimson-faced, gaping young man who stood
mechanically bobbing his head. Patty stared
back a touch apprehensively. She hoped
that she had n't got her friend into trouble.
It was very possibly against the rules for gar-
deners to entertain runaway school girls in the
Italian garden. The groom continued to
stare and to duck his head, and her companion
rose and faced him.
4 Well? " he inquired with a note of sharp-
ness. " What do you want? "
" Beg pardon, sir, but this telegram come,
267
Just Patty
and Richard says it might be important, sir,
and he says for me to find you, sir."
He received the telegram, ran his eyes over
it, scribbled an answer on the back with a
gold pencil which he extracted from his
pocket, and dismissed the man with a curt
nod. The envelope had fluttered to the table
and lay there face up. Patty inadvertently
glanced at the address, and as the truth
flashed across her, she hid her head against
the back of the stone seat in a gale of laugh-
ter. Her companion looked momentarily
sheepish, then he too laughed.
' You have enjoyed the privilege of telling
me exactly how rude you think I am. Not
even the reporters always allow themselves
that pleasure."
" Oh, but that was before I knew you ! I
think now that you have perfectly beautiful
manners."
He bowed his thanks.
" I shall endeavor to have better in the fu-
ture. It will be my pleasure to put my green
houses at the disposal of the young ladies of
St. Ursula's some afternoon soon."
268
Onions and Orchids
"Really?" she smiled. "That's aw-
fully nice of you ! "
They repacked the hamper and divided the
crumbs among the goldfish in the fountain.
" And now," he inquired, " which will you
visit first — the picture gallery or the or-
chids?"
Patty emerged from the orchid house at
four o'clock, her arms filled with an unprece-
dented collection for Conny's book. The big
yellow four-in-hand coach was standing out-
side the stable being washed. She examined
it interestedly.
" Should you like to have me drive you
home on that? "
" Oh, I 'd love it ! " Patty dimpled. " But
I 'm afraid it would n't be wise," she added
on second thought. " No, I am sure it
would n't be wise," she firmly turned her
back. Her eyes fell on the road, and an ap-
prehensive light sprang to her face.
"There's the hearse!"
"The hearse?"
" Yes, the school wagonette. I think I 'd
better be going."
269
Just Patty
He accompanied her back, through the
vegetable garden and the enchanted wood,
and held her flowers while she crawled under
the fence, tearing a hole in the other shoul-
der.
They shook hands through the barbed
wire.
" I Ve enjoyed both the onions and the
orchids," said Patty politely, " and particu-
larly the gingerbread. And if I ever have
any convict friends in need of employment,
I may send them to you? "
" Do so," he urged. " I will find them a
job."
She started off, then turned to wave good-
by.
" I Ve had a perfectly bully time! "
"A penny! "he called.
Patty laughed and ran.
270
XI
The Lemon Pie and the
Monkey-Wrench
XI
The Lemon Pie and
the Monkey- Wrench
VALINA SMITH was a mor-
bid young person who loved to
dabble in the supernatural.
Her taste in literature was for
Edgar A. Poe. In religion she inclined to-
ward spiritualism. Her favorite amuse-
ment was to gather a few shuddering friends
about her, turn out the gas, and tell ghost
stories. She had an extensive repertoire of
ghoulish incidents, that were not fiction but
the actual experience of people she knew.
She had even had one or two spiritual adven-
tures herself; and she would set forth the de-
tails with wide eyes and lowered voice, while
her auditors held one another's hands and
273
Just Patty
shivered. The circle in which Evalina moved
had not much sense of humor.
One Saturday evening St. Ursula's School
was in an unusually social mood. Evalina
was holding a ghost party in her room in the
East Wing; Nancy Lee had invited her ten
dearest friends to a birthday spread in Cen-
ter; the European History class was cele-
brating the completion of the Thirty-Years
War by a molasses-candy pull in the kitchen ;
and Kid McCoy was conducting a potato
race down the length of the South Corridor
— the entrance fee a postage stamp, the prize
sealed up in a large bandbox and warranted
to be worth a quarter.
Patty, who was popular, had been invited
to all four of the functions. She had de-
clined Nancy's spread, because Mae Van
Arsdale, her particular enemy, was invited;
but had accepted the other invitations, and
was busily spending the evening as an itiner-
ant guest.
She carried her potato, insecurely bal-
anced on a teaspoon, over one table and under
another, through a hoop suspended from the
274
The Lemon Pie
ceiling, and deposited it in the wastebasket
at the end of the corridor, in exactly two
minutes and forty-seven seconds. (Kid Mc-
Coy had a stop-watch.) This was far ahead
of anyone else's record, and Patty lingered
hopefully a few minutes in the neighborhood
of the bandbox ; but a fresh inrush of entries
postponed the bestowal of the prize, so she
left the judges to settle the question at their
leisure, and drifted on to Evalina's room.
She found it dark, except for the fitful
blue flare of alcohol and salt burning in a
fudge pan. The guests were squatting about
on sofa cushions, looking decidedly spotty in
the unbecoming light. Patty silently dropped
down on a vacant cushion, and lent polite
attention to Evalina, who at the moment held
the floor.
1 Well, you know, I had a very remark-
able experience myself last summer. Hap-
pening to visit a spiritualist camp, I attended
a materializing seance. "
"What's that?" asked Rosalie Patton.
" A seance in which spirits appear to me-
diums in the material form they occupied dur-
Just Patty
ing life," Evalina condescendingly explained.
Rosalie was merely an invited guest. She
did not belong to the inner cult.
" Oh ! " said Rosalie, vaguely enlightened.
" I did n't really expect anything to hap-
pen/' Evalina continued, " and I was just
thinking how foolish I was to have wasted
that dollar, when the medium shut her eyes
and commenced to tremble. She said she
saw the spirit of a beautiful young girl who
had passed over five years before. The girl
was dressed in white and her clothes were
dripping wet, and she carried in her hand a
monkey-wrench."
"A monkey-wrench!" cried Patty.
" What on earth — "
" I don't know any more than you do,"
said Evalina impatiently. " I 'm just tell-
ing what happened. The Medium could n't
get her full name, but she said her first name
commenced with * S.' And instantly, it came
over me that it was my Cousin Susan who fell
into a well and was drowned. I had n't
thought of her for years, but the description
answered perfectly. And I asked the me-
276
The Lemon Pie
dium, and after a little, she said yes, it was
Susan, and that she had come to send me a
warning."
Evalina allowed an impressive pause to
follow, while her auditors leaned forward in
strained attention.
" A warning! " breathed Florence Hissop.
' Yes. She told me never to eat lemon
pie."
Patty choked with sudden laughter. Eva-
lina cast her a look and went on.
" The medium shivered again and came out
of the trance, and she could n't remember a
thing she had said! When I told her about
the monkey-wrench and the lemon pie, she
was just as much puzzled as I was. She said
that the messages thaC came from the spirit
world were often inexplicable; though they
might seem to deal with trivial things, yet
in reality they contained a deep and hidden
truth. Probably some day I would have an
enemy who would try to poison me with
lemon pie, and I must never, on any account,
taste it again."
" And have n't you ? " Patty asked.
277
Just Patty
" Never," said Evalina sadly.
Patty composed her features into an ex-
pression of scientific inquiry.
" Do you think the medium told the
truth?" '
" I Ve never had any cause to doubt it."
" Then you really believe in ghosts? "
" In spirits? " Evalina amended gently.
" Many strange things happen that cannot
be explained in any other manner."
" What would you do if her spirit should
appear to you? Would you be scared? "
" Certainly not! " said Evalina, with dig-
nity. " I was very fond of Cousin Susan.
I have no cause to fear her spirit."
The smell of boiling molasses penetrated
from below; Patty excused herself and turned
toward the kitchen. The spiritual heights
on which Evalina dwelt, she found a trifle too
rare for ordinary breathing.
The candy was on the point of being
poured into pans.
"Here, Patty!" Priscilla ordered, " you
have n't done any work. Run down to the
278
The Lemon Pie
storeroom and get some butter to keep our
hands from sticking."
Patty obligingly accompanied the cook to
the cellar, with not a thought in the world
beyond butter. On a shelf in the storeroom
stood to-morrow's dessert — a row of fifteen
lemon pies, with neatly decorated tops of
white meringue. As Patty looked at them,
she was suddenly assailed by a wicked temp-
tation; she struggled with it for a moment
of sanity, but in the end she fell. While
Nora's head was bent over the butter tub,
Patty opened the window and deftly plumped
a pie through the iron grating onto the ledge
without. By the time Nora raised her head,
the window was shut again, and Patty was
innocently translating the label on a bottle
of olive oil.
As they pulled their candy in a secluded
corner of the kitchen, Patty hilariously con-
fided her plan to Conny and Priscilla. Conny
was always game for whatever mischief was
afoot, but Priscilla sometimes needed urging.
She was — most inconveniently — beginning
279
Just Patty
to develop a moral nature, and the other two,
who as yet were comfortably un-moral, occa-
sionally found her difficult to coerce.
Priscilla finally lent a grudging consent,
while Conny enthusiastically volunteered to
acquire a monkey-wrench. Being captain of
sports, she could manage the matter better
than Patty. On a flying visit to the stables,
ostensibly to consult with Martin as to a re-
marking of the tennis courts, she singled out
from his tool bench the monkey-wrench of her
choice, casually covered it with her sweater,
and safely bore it away. She and Patty con-
veyed their booty by devious secret ways to
Paradise Alley. A great many alarms were
given on the passage, a great deal of muffled
giggling ensued, but finally the monkey-
wrench and the pie — slightly damaged as
to its meringue top, but still distinctly recog-
nizable as lemon — were safely cached under
Patty's bed to await their part in the night's
adventure.
" Lights-out " as usual, rang at nine-thirty,
but it rang to deaf ears. A spirit of restless
festivity was abroad. The little girls in the
280
The Lemon Pie
" Baby Ward " larked about the halls in a
pillow fight, until they were sternly ordered
to bed by the Dowager herself. It was close
to ten o'clock when the candy-pullers washed
their sticky hands and turned upstairs.
Patty found a delegation of potato racers
waiting with the news that she had won the
prize. An interested crowd gathered to
watch her open the box; it contained a tin
funeral wreath that had been displayed that
winter in the window of the village under-
taker — Kid had bought it cheap, owing to
fly specks that would not rub off. The
wreath was hoisted on the end of a shinny
stick and marched through the corridor to
the tune of " John Brown's Body," while
Mademoiselle ineffectually wrung her hands
and begged for quiet.
" Mes cheres enf antes — it is ten o'clock.
Soyez tranquilles. Patty — Mon Dieu —
How you are bad! Margarite McCoy, you
do not listen to me? Nous verrons! Go
to your room, dis in-stant! You do not be-
long in my hall. Children! I implore.
Go to bed — all — tout de suite! "
281
Just Patty
The procession cheered and marched on,
until Miss Lord descended from the East and
commanded silence. Miss Lord when in-
censed was effectual. The peace of con-
quest settled for a time over Paradise Alley,
and she returned to her own camp. But a
fresh hub-bub broke out, when it was discov-
ered that someone had sprinkled granulated
sugar, in liberal quantities, through every bed
in the Alley. Patty and Conny would have
been suspected, had their own sheets not
yielded a plentiful harvest. It was another
half hour before the beds were remade, and
the school finally composed to sleep.
When the teacher on duty had made her
last rounds, and everything was quiet, Patty
turned back the covers of her bed and cau-
tiously stepped to the floor. She was still
fully clothed, except that she had changed
her shoes for softer soled bedroom slippers,
better fitted for nocturnal adventures. Pris-
cilla and Conny joined her. Fortunately a
full moon shone high in the sky, and they
needed no artificial light. Aided by her two
assistants, Patty draped the sheets of her bed
282
The Lemon Pie
about her into two voluminous wings, and
fastened them securely with safety pins. A
pillow slip was pulled over her head and the
corners tied into ears. They hesitated a mo-
ment with scissors suspended.
" Hurry up and cut a nose," Patty whis-
pered. " I 'm smothering! "
" It seems sort of too bad to spoil a per-
fectly good pillow slip," said Priscilla, with
a slight access of conscience.
" I '11 drop some money in the mission-
ary box," Patty promised.
The nose and eyes were cut; a grinning
mouth and devilishly curved eyebrows were
added with burnt cork. The pillow slip was
tied firmly about her neck to allow no chance
of slipping, the ears waved lopsidedly; she
was the most amazing specter that ever left
a respectable grave.
These preparations had occupied some
time. It was already ten minutes of twelve.
" I '11 wait till the stroke of midnight,"
said Patty.' "Then I'll flutter into Eva-
Una's room, and wave my wings, and whis-
per, ' Come ! ' The monkey-wrench and the
283
Just Patty
pie, I '11 leave on the foot of her bed, so
she '11 know she was n't dreaming."
'What if she screams?" asked Priscilla.
" She won't scream. She loves ghosts —
especially Cousin Susan. She said to-night
she 'd be glad to meet her."
" But what if she does scream? " persisted
Priscilla.
"Oh, that's easy! I'll dash back and
pop into bed. Before anybody wakes, I '11
be sound asleep. "
They made a reconnoitering excursion into
the empty corridors to make sure that all was
quiet. Only regular breathing issued from
open doors. Evalina fortunately lived in a
single, but unfortunately, it was at the ex-
treme end of the East Wing in the opposite
corner of the building from Patty's own dom-
icile. Conny and Priscilla, in bedroom slip-
pers and kimonos, tiptoed after Patty as she
took her flight down the length of the Alley.
She sailed back and forth and waved her
wings in the moonlight that streamed
through the skylight in the central hall.
The two spectators clung together and shiv-
284
The Lemon Pie
ered delightedly. In spite of having been
behind the scenes and assisted at the make-
up, they received a distinct sensation — what
it would be to one suddenly wakened from
sleep, to a believer in ghosts, they were a
bit apprehensive to consider. At the en-
trance to the East Wing, they handed Patty
her pie and monkey-wrench, and retreated
to their own neighborhood. In case of an
uproar, they did not wish to be discovered
too far from home.
Patty flitted on down the corridor, past
yawning doors, into Evalina's room, where
she took up a central position in a patch of
moonlight. A few sepulchral " Comes ! "
brought no response. Evalina was a sound
sleeper.
Patty shook the foot of the bed. The
sleeper stirred slightly but slept on. This
was annoying. The ghost had no mind to
make noise enough to disturb the neighbors.
She laid the pie and the monkey-wrench on
the counterpane, and shook the bed again,
with the insistence of an earthquake. As
she was endeavoring to resume her proper-
285
Just Patty
ties, Evalina sat up and clutched the bed
clothes about her neck with a frenzied jerk.
Patty just had time to save the pie — the
monkey-wrench went to the floor with a
•crash; and the crash, to Patty's startled
senses, was echoed and intensified from far
down the hall. She had no chance to wave
her wings or murmur, " Come." Evalina
did not wait for her cue. She opened her
mouth as wide as it would open, and emitted
shriek after shriek of such ear-splitting in-
tensity, that Patty, for a moment, was too
aghast to move. Then, still hugging the pie
in her arms, she turned and ran.
To her consternation the cries were an-
swered ahead. The whole house seemed to
be awake and shrieking. She could hear
doors banging and frightened voices demand-
ing the cause of the tumult. She was mak-
ing a quick dash for her own room, trusting
to the confusion and darkness to make good
her escape, when Miss Lord, gaily attired
in a flowered bath-robe, appeared at the end
of the corridor. Patty was headed straight
286
The Lemon Pie
for her arms. With a gasp of terror, she
turned back toward the shrieking Evalina.
She realized by now that she was in a
trap.
A narrow passage led from the East Wing
to the servants' quarters. She dived into
this. If she could reach the back stairs it
would mean safety. She pushed the door
open a crack, and to her horror, was con-
fronted by a worse uproar. The servants'
quarters were in a state of panic. She saw
Maggie dashing past, wrapped in a pink
striped blanket, while above the general con-
fusion rose Nora's rich brogue:
"Help! Murtherl I seen a bur-r-gu-
lar!"
She shut the door and shrank back into
the passage. Behind her Evalina was still
hysterically wailing:
" I saw a ghost I I saw a ghost ! "
Before her the cry of " Burglars ! " was
growing louder.
Utterly bewildered at this double demon-
stration, Patty flattened herself against the
287
Just Patty
wall in the friendly darkness of the passage,
while she soulfully thanked Heaven that the
proposed electric lights had not yet been in-
stalled. A dozen voices were calling for
matches, but no one seemed to find any.
She pantingly tugged at the pillowcase fas-
tened about her neck; but Conny had tied it
firmly with a white hair ribbon, and the knot
was behind. In any case, even if she could
remove her masquerade, she was lost if they
found her; for she was still wearing the
white dress of the evening, and not even
Patty's imagination could compass an excuse
for that at twelve o'clock at night.
The search was growing nearer; she
caught the glimmer of a light ahead. At
any moment they might open the door of the
passage. The linen closet was the only
refuge at hand — and that was very tem-
porary. She felt for the door handle and
slipped inside. If she could find a pile of
sheets, she might dive to the bottom and
hope to escape notice, being mostly sheet her-
self. But it was Saturday, and all the linen
had gone down. A long, slippery, inclined
288
The Lemon Pie
chute connected the room with the laundry
in the basement two floors below. Steps
were already audible in the passage. She
heard Miss Lord's voice say:
" Bring a light ! We '11 search the linen
closet."
Patty did not hesitate. In imagination
she could already feel the pressure of Miss
Lord's grasp upon her shoulder. A broken
neck was preferable.
Still hugging the lemon pie — in all her
excitement she had clasped it firmly — she
climbed into the chute, stretched her feet out
straight in front, and pushed off. For two
breathless seconds she dashed through space,
then her feet hit the trap door at the bottom,
and she shot into the laundry.
One instant earlier, the door from the
kitchen stairs had cautiously opened, and a
man had darted into the laundry. He had
just had time to cast a glance of boundless
relief about the empty, moonlit room, when
Patty and the pie catapulted against him.
They went down together in a whirl of wav-
ing wings. Patty being on top picked her-
19 289
Just Patty
self up first. She still clutched her pie — at
least what was left of it; the white meringue
was spread over the man's hair and face ; but
the lemon part was still intact. The man
sat up dazedly, rubbed the meringue from
his eyes, cast one look at his assailant, and
staggered to his feet. He flattened himself
against the wall with arms thrown wide for
support.
" Holy gee 1 " he choked. " What in hell
uv I got into? "
Patty excused his language, as he did not
appear to know that he was addressing a
.lady. He seemed to be laboring under the
impression that she was the devil.
Her pillow slip by now was very much
askew; one ear pointed northward, the other
southeast, and she could only see out of one
eye. It was very hot inside and she was
gasping for breath. For a palpitating mo-
ment they merely stared and panted. Then
Patty's mind began to work.
" I suppose," she suggested, " you are the
burglar they are screaming about? "
The man leaned back limply and stared,
290
The Lemon Pie
his wide, frightened eyes shining through a
fringe of meringue.
"I," said Patty, completing the introduc-
tion, " am the ghost."
He muttered something under his breath.
She could not make out whether he was pray-
ing or swearing.
" Don't be afraid," she added kindly. " I
won't hurt you."
" Is it a bloomin' insane asylum? "
" Just a girl's school."
"Gosh!" he observed.
"Hush!" said Patty. "They're com-
ing!"
The sound of running feet became audible
in the kitchen above, while bass voices were
added to the shrill soprano that had sounded
the former tocsin. The men had arrived
from the stables. The burglar and the
ghost regarded each other for a moment of
suspended breathing; their mutual danger
drew them together. Patty hesitated an in-
stant, while she studied his face as it showed
through the interstices of the meringue. He
had honest blue eyes and yellow curls. She
291
Just Patty
suddenly stretched out a hand and grasped
him by an elbow.
" Quick! They'll be here in a minute.
I know a place to hide. Come with me."
She pushed him unresisting down a pas--
sage and into a storeroom, boarded off from
the main cellar, where the scenery of the
dramatic society was kept.
" Get down on your hands and knees and
follow me," she ordered, as she stooped low
and dived behind a pile of canvas.
The man crawled after. They emerged
at the farther end into a small recess behind
some canvas trees. Patty sat on a stump and
offered a wooden rock to her companion.
'* They '11 never think of looking here,"
she whispered. " Martin 's too fat to crawl
through."
A small barred window let in some faint
moonlight and they had an opportunity to
study each other more at leisure. The man
did not yet seem comfortable in Patty's pres-
ence; he was occupying the farthest possible
corner of his rock. Presently he rubbed his
coat sleeve over his head and looked long
292
The Lemon Pie
and earnestly at the meringue. He was evi-
dently at a loss to identify the substance; in
the rush of events he had taken no note of
the pie.
Patty brought her one eye to bear upon
him.
"I'm simply melting!" she whispered.
" Do you think you could untie that
knot?"
She bent her head and presented the back
of her neck.
The man by now was partially reassured
as to the humanness of his companion, and
he obediently worked at the knot but with
hands that trembled. At last it came loose,
and Patty with a sigh of relief emerged into
the open. Her hair was somewhat tousled
and her face was streaked with burnt cork,
but her blue eyes were as honest as his own*
The sight reassured him.
" Gee ! " he muttered in a wave of relief,
" Keep still! " Patty warned.
The hunt was growing nearer. There
Was the sound of tramping feet in the laundry
and they could hear the men talking.
293
Just Patty
"A ghost and a burglar!" said Martin,
in fine scorn. '* That 's a likely combination,
ain't it now? "
They made an obligatory and superficial
search through the coal cellar. Martin
jocularly inquiring:
" Did ye look in the furnace, Mike?
Here Osaki, me lad, ye 're small. Take a
crawl oop the poipes and see if the ghost
ain't hidin' there."
They opened the door of the property-
room and glanced inside. The burglar
ducked his head and held his breath, while
Patty struggled with an ill-timed desire to
giggle. Martin was in a facetious mood.
He whistled in the manner of calling a dog.
"Here, Ghostie! Here, Burgie! Come
here, old fellow!"
They banged the door shut and their foot-
steps receded. Patty was rocking back and
forth in a species of hysterics, stuffing the
corner of the sheet into her mouth to keep
from laughing audibly. The burglar's teeth
were chattering.
"Lord!" he breathed. "It may be
294
The Lemon Pie
funny for you, Miss. But it means the pen-
itentiary for me."
Patty interrupted her hysterics and re-
garded him with disgust.
" It would mean expulsion for me, or at
least something awfully unpleasant. But
that 's no reason for going all to pieces.
You 're a nice sort of a burglar ! Brace up
and be a sport! "
He mopped his brow and removed another
portion of icing.
" You must be an awful amateur to break
into a house like this," she said contemptu-
ously. " Don't you know the silver 's
plated?"
" I .difln't know nothin' about it," he said
sullenly. " I see the window open over the
shed roof and I clum up. I was hungry and
was lookin' for somethin' to eat. I ain't had
nothin' since yesterday mornin'."
Patty reached to the floor beside her.
" Have some pie."
The man ducked aside as it was poked at
him.
" W-what 's that? " he gasped.
295
Just Patty
He was as nervous as a mouse in a cage.
" Lemon pie. It looks a little messy but
it 's all right. The only thing the matter
with :t is that it has lost its meringue top.
That 's mostly on your head. The rest of
it is spread over me and the laundry floor
and Evalina Smith's bed and the clothes
chute."
" Oh! " he murmured in evident relief, as
he rubbed his hand over his hair for the
fourth time. " I was wonderin' what the
blame stuff was."
" But the lemon 's all here," she urged.
" You 'd better eat it. It 's quite nourish-
ing."
He accepted the pie and fell to eating it
with an eagerness that carried out the truth of
his assertion as to yesterday's breakfast.
Patty watched him, her natural curiosity
struggling with her acquired politeness. The
curiosity triumphed.
" Do you mind telling me how you came
to be a burglar? You make such a remark-
ably bad one, that I should think you would
have chosen almost any other profession."
296
The Lemon Pie
He told his story between bites. To one
more experienced in police records, it might
have sounded a trifle fishy, but he had an
honest face and blue eyes, and it never en-
tered her head to doubt him. The burglar
commenced it sullenly; no one had ever be-
lieved him yet and he was n't expecting her
to. He would like to have invented some-
thing a little more plausible, but he lacked
the imagination to tell a convincing lie. So,
as usual, he lamely told the truth.
Patty listened with strained attention.
His tale was somewhat muffled by lemon pie,
and his vocabulary did not always coincide
with her own, but she managed to get the
gist of it.
By rights he was a gardener. In the last
place where he worked he used to sleep in
the attic, because the gentleman he was away
a lot, and the lady she was afraid not to
have a man in the house. And a gas-fitter,
that he had always thought was his friendr
give him some beer one night and got him
drunk, and took away the key of the back
door. And while he (the gardener) wa«-
207
Just Patty
sound asleep on the children's sand pile under
the apple tree in the back yard, the gas-fitter
(entered the house and stole an overcoat and
3) f ilver coffee-pot and a box of cigars and a
bottle of whiskey and two umbrellas. And
they proved it on him (the gardener) and
le was sent up for two years. And when
Ac come out, no one would n't give him no
" An' ye can't make me believe," he .added
bitterly, "that that beer wasn't doped! "
" Oh, but it was terrible of you to get
drunk ! " said Patty, shocked.
" 'T was an accident," he insisted.
" If you are sure that you '11 never do it
again," she said, " I '11 get you a job. But
you must promise, on your word of honor as
a gentleman. You know I couldn't recom-
mend a drunkard."
The man grinned feebly.
" I guess ye '11 not be findin' anybody that
will be wantin' a jailbird."
" Oh, yes, I will ! I know exactly the man.
He 's a friend of mine, and he likes jailbirds.
He realizes that it 's only luck that made
298
The Lemon Pie
him a millionaire instead of a convict. He
always gives a man a chance to start again.
He used to have a murderer in charge of
his greenhouses, and a cattle thief to milk
the cows. I 'm sure he '11 like you. Come
with me, and I '11 write you a letter of intro-
duction."
Patty gathered her sheets about her and
prepared to crawl out.
"What are ye doin'?" he demanded
quickly. " Y' are n't goin' to hand me
over?"
"Is it likely?" She regarded him with
scorn. " How could I hand you over, with-
out handing myself over at the same time? "
The logic of this appealed to him, and he
followed meekly on hands and knees. She
approached the laundry door and listened
warily; the search had withdrawn to other
quarters. She led the way along a passage
and up a flight of stairs and slipped into the
deserted kindergarten room.
" We 're safe here," she whispered.
" They Ve already searched it."
She cast about for writing materials. No
299
Just Patty
ink was to be found, but she discovered a
red crayon pencil, and tore a sheet of paper
from a copy book. " Honesty is the best
policy," was inscribed in flowing characters
at the top.
She hesitated with her crayon poised.
" If I get you a nice job in charge of
onions and orchids and things, will you prom-
ise never again to drink any beer? "
" Sure," he agreed, but without much en-
thusiasm.
There was a light of uneasiness in his eye.
Nothing in his past experience tallied with
to-night's adventure; and he suspected an
ambush.
" Because," said Patty, " it would be aw-
fully embarrassing for me if you did get
drunk. I should never dare recommend an-
other burglar."
She wrote her note on the window ledge,
by moonlight, and read it aloud :
" Dear Mr. Weatherby,—
" Do you remember the conversation we had the
day I ran away and dropped into your onion garden ?
You said you thought criminals were often quite as
300
The Lemon Pie
good as the rest of us, and that you would find a
job for any convict friend I might present. This is
to introduce a burglar of my acquaintance who
would like to secure a position as gardener. He was
trained to be a gardener and much prefers it to
burglaring, but finds it difficult to find a place be-
cause he has been in prison. He is faithful, honest
and industrious, and promises to be sober. I shall
appreciate any favor you may show him.
" Sincerely yours,
" PATTY WYATT."
" P. S. — Please excuse this red crayon. I am
writing at midnight, by moonlight in the kinder-
garten room, and the ink 's all locked up. The bur-
glar will explain the circumstances, which are too
complicated to write.
" Yours ever,
" P. W."
She enclosed her note in a large manila
envelope that had contained weaving mats,
and addressed it to Silas Weatherby, Esq.
The man received it gingerly. He seemed
to think that it might go off.
" What's the matter?" said Patty.
" Are you afraid of it? "
' Ye 're sure," he asked suspiciously,
" that Silas Weatherby ain't a cop? "
301
Just Patty
" He 's a railroad president."
" Oh! " The burglar looked relieved.
Patty unlocked the window, then paused
for a final moral lecture.
" I am giving you a chance to begin again.
If you are game, and present this letter,
you '11 get a job. If you 're a coward, and
don't dare present it, you can keep on being
a burglar for the rest of your life for all
I care — and a mighty poor one you 'II
make ! "
She opened the window and waved her
hand invitingly toward the outside world.
" Good-by, Miss," he said.
" Good-by," said Patty cordially. " And
good luck ! "
He paused, half in, half out, for a last re-
assurance.
4 Ye 're sure it 's on the straight, Miss ?
Y' ain't pitchin' me no curve? "
" It 's on the straight." She pledged her
word. " I ain't pitchin' you no curve."
Patty crept upstairs the back way, and by
a wide detour avoided the excited crowd still
gathered in the East Wing. A fresh hub-
302
The Lemon Pie
bub had arisen, for Evalina Smith had found
a monkey-wrench on the floor of her room.
It was shown to the scoffing Martin as visible
proof that the burglar had been there.
" An' it 's me own wrench ! " he cried in
wide-eyed amazement. " Now, what do
ye think of his nerve?"
Patty hurriedly undressed and tumbled
into a kimono. Sleepily rubbing her eyes,
she joined the assemblage in the hall.
"What's happened?" she asked, blink-
ing at the lights, " has there been a fire? "
A chorus of laughter greeted the ques-
tion.
" It 's a burglar ! " said Conny, exhibiting
the wrench.
" Oh, why didn't you wake me?" Patty
wailed. " I Ve wanted all my life to see a
burglar."
Two weeks later, a groom arrived on
horseback with a polite note for the Dow-
ager.
Mr. Weatherby presented his compliments
to Mrs. Trent, and desired the pleasure of
303
Just Patty
showing the young ladies of the Senior class
through his art gallery on Friday next at four
o'clock.
The Dowager was at a loss to account for
this gratuitous courtesy on the part of her
hitherto unneighborly neighbor. After a mo-
ment of deliberation, she decided to meet him
half way; and the groom rode back with an
equally polite acceptance.
On Friday next, as the school hearse
turned in at the gates of Weatherby Hall,
the owner stood on the portico waiting to
welcome his guests. If there were 4 shade
more empressement in his greeting to Patty
than to her companions, the Dowager did not
notice it.
He made an exceptionally attentive host.
In person he conducted them through the
gallery and pointec. out the famous Botticelli.
Tea was served at little tables set on the west-
tern terrace. Each girl found a gardenia at
'her plate and a silver bonbonniere with the
St. Ursula monogram on the cover. After
tea their host suggested a visit to the Italian
garden. As they strolled through the paths,
304
The Lemon Pie
Patty found herself walking beside him and
the Dowager. His conversation was ad-
dressed to Mrs. Trent, but an occasional
amused glance was directed toward Patty.
They turned a corner behind a marble pa-
vilion, and came upon a fountain and a gar-
dener man, intent upon a border of maiden-
hair ferns.
" I have a very remarkable new Swedish
gardener," Mr. Weatherby casually re-
marked to the Dowager. " The man is a
genius at making plants grow. He came
highly recommended. Oscar! " he called.
" Bring the ladies some of those tulips."
The man dropped his watering-can, and
approached, hat in hand. He was a golden-
haired, blue-eyed young chap with an honest
smile. He presented his flowers, first to the
elder lady and then to Patty. As he caught
her interested gaze, a light of comprehension
suddenly leaped to his eyes. Her costume
and make-up to-day were so very dissimilar
to those which she had assumed on the occa=
sion of their first meeting, that recognition
on his part had not been instantaneous.
305
Just Patty
Patty fell back a step to receive her flowers
and the others strolled on.
" I have to thank ye, Miss," he said grate-
fully, " for the finest job I ever had. It 's
all right!"
" You know now," Patty laughed, " that
I didn't pitch you no curves?"
XII
The Gypsy Trail
XII
The Gypsy Trail
nEELS together. Hips firm.
One, two, three, four — Irene
McCullough! Will you keep
your shoulders back and your
stomach in? How many times must I tell
you to stand straight ? That 's better !
iWe '11 start again. One, two, three, four."
The exercise droned on. Some twenty of
the week's delinquents were working off demer-
its. It was uncongenial work for a sunny
Saturday. The twenty pairs of eyes gazed
beyond Miss Jellings' head — across ropes
and rings and parallel bars — toward the
green tree tops and the blue sky; and twenty
girls, for that brief hour, regretted their past
badnesses.
Miss Jellings herself seemed to be a bit
309
Just Patty
on edge. She snapped out her orders with
a curtness that brought a jerkily quick response
from forty waving Indian clubs. As she
stood straight and slim in her gymnasium
suit, her cheeks flushed with exercise, she
looked quite as young as any of her pupils.
But if she appeared young, she also appeared
determined. No instructor in the school,
not even Miss Lord in Latin, kept stricter
discipline.
44 One, two, three, four — Patty Wyatt!
Keep your eyes to the front. It is n't neces-
sary for you to watch the clock. I shall dis-
miss the class when I am ready. Over your
heads. One, two, three, four." Finally,
when nerves were almost at the breaking
point, came the grateful order, 44 Atten-
tion! Right about face. March. Clubs
in racks. Double quick. Halt. Break
ranks."
With a relieved whoop, the class dis-
persed.
4 Thank heaven, there 's only one more
week of it!" Patty breathed, as they re-
gained their own quarters in Paradise Alley.
310
The Gypsy Trail
" Good-by to Gym forever!" Conny
waved a slipper over her head. " Hooray ! "
" Is n't Jelly awful?" Patty demanded,
still smarting from the recent insult. " She
never used to be so bad. What on eartL hat,
got into her? "
" She is pretty snappy," Priscilla agreed.
" But I like her just the same. She 's so —
so sort of spirited, you know — like a skittish
horse."
" Urn," growled Patty. " I 'd like to see
a good, big, husky man get the upper hand
of Jelly once, and just make her toe the
mark!"
' You two will have to hurry," Priscilla
warned, " if you want to get into your cos-
tumes up here. Martin starts in half an
hour."
"We'll be ready!" Patty was already
plunging her face into an inky mixture in the
wash bowl.
The fancy-dress lawn fete, which St.
Ursula's School held on the last Friday in
every May, had occurred tfae evening before;
and this afternoon the girls were redonning
Just Patty
their costumes to make a trip to the village
photographer's. The complicated costumes,
that required time and space for their proper
adjustment, were to be assumed at the school
and driven down in the hearse. Those
more simple of arrangement were to go in
the trolley car, and be donned in the cramped
quarters of the gallery dressing-room.
Patty and Conny, whose make-up was a
very delicate matter, were dressing at the
school. They had gone as Gypsies — not
comic opera Gypsies, but real Gypsies, dirty
and ragged and patched. (They had daily
dusted the room with their costumes for a
week before the fete.) Patty wore one
brown stocking and one black, with a con-
spicuous hole in the right calf. Conny's
toes protruded from one shoe, and the sole
of the other flapped. Their hair was un-
kempt and the stain on their faces streaked.
They were the last word in realism.
They scrambled into their dresses to-day
with little ceremony, and hitched them to-
gether anyhow. Conny caught up a tam-
bourine and Patty a worn-out pack of cards,
312
The Gypsy Trail
and they clattered down the tin-covered back
stairs. In the lower hall they came face to
face with Miss Jellings, clothed in cool mus-
lin, and in a more affable frame of mind.
Patty never held her grudges long; she had
already forgotten her momentary indigna-
tion at not being allowed to look at the
clock.
* You cross-a my hand with silver ? I
tell-a your fortune."
She danced up to the gymnasium teacher
with a flutter of scarlet petticoats, and poked
out a dirty hand.
" Nice-a fortune," Conny added with a
persuasive rattle of the tambourine. " Tall,
dark-a young man."
* You impudent little ragamuffins ! " Miss
Jellings took them each by the shoulder and
turned them for inspection. "What have
you done to your faces? "
" Washed 'em in black coffee."
Miss Jellings shook her head and laughed.
" You 're a disgrace to the school ! " she
pronounced. " Don't let any policeman see
you, or he '11 arrest you for vagabonds."
313
Just Patty
"Patty! Conny! — Hurry up. The
hearse is starting."
Priscilla appeared in the doorway and
waved her gridiron frantically. Priscilla,
late about finding a costume, at the last
moment had blasphemously gone as St. Lau-
rence, draped in a sheet, with the kitchen
broiler under her arm.
"We're coming 1 Tell him to wait."
Patty dashed out.
"Don't you want a coat?" Conny
shrieked after her.
" No — come on — we don't need coats."
The two raced down the drive after the
wagonette — Martin never waited for lag-
gards; he let them run and catch up. They
sprang onto the rear step; and half-a-dozen
outstretched hands hauled them in, head
first.
They found the photographer's waiting-
room a scene of the maddest confusion.
When sixty excited people occupy the normal
space of twelve, the effect is not restful.
" Did anyone bring a button-hook? "
" Lend me some powder."
3H
The Gypsy Trail
" That 's my safety-pin ! "
" Where 'd you put the burnt cork?"
" Is my hair a perfect sight? "
" Fasten me up — please 1 "
" Does my petticoat show? "
Everybody babbled at once, and nobody
listened.
" I say, let 's get out of this — I 'm roast-
ing!"
St. Laurence seized the Gypsies by the
shoulder and shoved them into the vacant
gallery. They squeezed themselves, with a
sigh of relief, onto a shaky flight of six nar-
row stairs before the breezes of an open win-
dow.
"I know exactly what ails Jelly! " Patty
spoke with the air of carrying on a conversa-
tion.
" What?" asked the others, with interest.
" She 's had a quarrel with that Laurence
Gilroy man who is manager at the electric
light place. Don't you remember how he
used to be hanging about all the time ? And
now he never comes at all? He was out
every day in the Christmas vacation. They
315.
Just Patty
used to go walking together — and without
any chaperone, too! You would think the
Dowager would have made an awful fuss,
but she didn't seem to. Anyway, you
should have seen the way Miss Jellings
treated that man — it was per-fect-ly dread-
full The way she jumps on Irene McCul-
lough is nothing to the way she jumped on
him."
" He does n't have to work off demer-
its. He 's a fool to stand it," said Conny
simply.
" He does n't stand it any more."
" How do you know? "
" Well, I — sort of heard. I was in the
library alcove one day in the Christmas va-
cation, reading the * Murders in the Rue
Morgue,' when Jelly and Mr. Gilroy walked
in. They didn't see me, and I didn't pay
any attention to them at first — I'd just got
to the place where the detective says, * Is that
the mark of a human hand ? ' — but pretty
soon they got to scrapping so that I could n't
help but hear, and I felt sort of embarrassed
about interrupting."
316
The Gypsy Trail
" What did they say? " asked Conny, im-
patiently brushing aside her apologies.
" I did n't grasp it entirely. He was
trying to explain about something, and she
would n't listen to a word he said — she was
perfectly horrid. You know, — the way she
is when she says, * I understand it perfectly.
I don't care to hear any excuse. You may
take ten demerits, and report on Saturday
for extra gymnasium.' — Well, they kept
that up for fifteen minutes, both of 'em get-
ting stiffer and stiffer. Then he took his
hat and went. And you know, I don't be-
lieve he ever came back — I've never seen
him. And now, she 's sorry. She 's been as
cross as a bear ever since."
" And she can be awfully nice," said Pris-
cilla.
" Yes, she can/' said Patty. " But she 's
too cocky. I 'd just like to see that man
come back, and show her her place ! "
The masqueraders trooped in and the seri-
ous business of the day commenced. The
school posed as a whole, then an infinity of
smaller groups disentangled themselves and
317.
Just Patty
posed separately, while those who were not
in the picture stood behind the camera and
made the others laugh.
" Young ladies! " the exasperated photog-
rapher implored. " Will you kindly be
quiet for just two seconds ? You have made
me spoil three plates. And will that monk
on the end stop giggling? Now! All
ready. Please keep your eyes on the stove-
pipe hole, and hold your positions while I
count three. One, two, three — thank
you!"
He removed his plate with a flourish, and
dove into the dark room.
It was Patty's and Conny's turn to be
taken alone, but St. Ursula and her Eleven
Thousand Virgins were clamoring for prece-
dence on the ground of superior numbers,
and they made such a turmoil that the two
Gypsies politely stood aside.
Keren Hersey, as St. Ursula, and eleven
little Junior A's — each playing the mani-
fold part of a Thousand Virgins — made up
the group. It was to be a symbolical picture,
Keren explained*
The Gypsy Trail
When the Gypsies' turn came a second
time, Patty had the misfortune to catch her
dress on a nail and tear a three-cornered rent
in the front. It was too large a hole for
even a Gypsy to carry off with propriety; she
retired to the dressing-room and fastened
the edges together with white basting thread.
Finally, last of all, they presented them-
selves in their dirt and tatters. The photog-
rapher was an artist, and he received them
with appreciative delight. The others had
been patently masqueraders, but these were
the real thing. He photographed them
dancing, and wandering on a lonely moor
with threatening canvas clouds behind them.
He was about to take them in a forest, with
a camp fire, and a boiling kettle slung from
three sticks — when Conny suddenly be-
came aware of a brooding quiet that had set-
tled on the place.
"Where is everybody ?"
She returned from a hasty excursion into
the waiting-room, divided between consterna-
tion and laughter.
" Patty! The hearse has gone I — And
Just Patty
the street-car people are waiting on the cor-
ner by Marsh and Elkins's."
" Oh, the beasts 1 They knew we were
in here." Patty dropped her three sticks
and rose precipitately. "Sorry I" she
called to the photographer, who was busily
dusting off the kettle. " We Ve got to
run."
" And we have n't any coats ! " wailed
Conny. " Miss Wadsworth won't take us
in the car in these clothes."
"She'll have to," said Patty simply.
" She can't leave us on the corner."
They clattered downstairs, but wavered
an instant in the friendly darkness of the
doorway; there was no time, however, for
maidenly hesitations, and taking their cour-
age in both hands, they plunged into the
Saturday afternoon crowd that thronged
Main Street.
"Oh, Mama! Quick! Look at the
Gypsies," a little boy squealed as the two
pushed past.
" Heavens ! " Conny whispered. " I feel
like a circus parade."
320
The Gypsy Trail
"Hurry!" Patty panted, taking her by
the hand and beginning to run. " The car 's
stopped and they 're getting in — Wait !
Wait!" She frenziedly waved the tam-
bourine above her head.
An express wagon at the crossing blocked
their progress. The last of the Eleven
Thousand Virgins climbed aboard, without
once glancing over her shoulder ; and the car,
unheeding, clanged away, and became a yel-
low spot in the distance. The two Gypsies
stood on the corner and stared at one an-
otiier in blank interrogation.
" I have n't a cent — have you? "
" Not one."
" How are we going to get home ? "
" I have n't an idea."
Patty felt her elbow jostled. She turned
to find young John Drew Dominick Murphy,
a protege of the school, and an intimate
acquaintance of her own, regarding her with
impish delight.
"Hey, youse! Give us a song and
dance."
" At least our friends don't recognize us,"
321
Just Patty
said Conny, drawing what comfort she could
from her incognito.
Quite a crowd had gathered by now, and
it was rapidly growing larger. Pedestrians
had to make a detour into the street in order
to get past.
" It would n't take us long," said Patty, a
spark of mischief breaking through the blank-
ness in her face, " to earn money enough for
a carriage — you thump the tambourine and
I '11 dance the sailor's hornpipe."
" Patty ! Behave yourself." Conny for
once brought a dampening supply of com-
mon sense to bear on her companion.
' We 're going to graduate in another week.
For goodness' sake, don't let 's get expelled
first."
She grasped her by the elbow and shoved
her insistently down a side street. John
Drew Murphy and his friends followed for
several blocks, but having gazed their fill,
and perceiving that the Gypsies had no en-
tertainment to offer, they gradually dropped
away.
" Well, what shall we do? " asked Conny,
322
The Gypsy Trail
when they had finally shaken off the last of
the small boys.
" I s'pose we could walk."
14 Walk!" Conny exhibited her flapping
sole. " You don't expect me to walk three
miles in that shoe?"
" Very well," said Patty. " What shall
we do?"
" We might go back to the photographer's
and borrow some car-fare."
" No ! I 'm not going to parade myself
the length of Main Street again with that
hole in my stocking."
" Very well," Conny shrugged. " Think
cf something."
" I suppose we could go to the livery
stable and — "
" It 's on the other side of town — I can't
flap all that distance. Every time I take a
step, I have to lift my foot ten inches
high."
" Very well." It was Patty's turn to
shrug. " Perhaps you can think of some-
thing better?"
" I think the simplest way would be to
323
Just Patty
take a car, and ask the conductor to charge
it."
" Yes — and explain for the benefit of all
the passengers that we belong at St. Ursula':,
School ? It would be all over town by night,
and the Dowager would be furious."
" Very well — what shall we do? "
They were standing at the moment before
a comfortable frame house with three chil
dren romping on the veranda. The children
left off their play to come to the top of the
steps and stare.
" Come on ! " Patty urged. " We '11 sing
the ' Gypsy Trail.' " r(This was the latest
song that had swept the school.) " J '
play an accompaniment on the tambourine,
and you can flap your sole. Maybe they '11
give us ten cents. It would be a beautiful
lark to earn our car-fare home — I 'm sure
it Js worth ten cents to hear me sing."
Conny glanced up and down the deserted
street. No policeman was in sight. She
grudgingly allowed herself to be drawn up
the walk, and the music began. The chil-
dren applauded loudly; and the two were
324
The Gypsy Trail
just congratulating themselves on a very
credible performance, when the door opened
and a woman appeared — a first cousin to
Miss Lord.
" Stop that noise immediately ! There 's
somebody sick inside."
The tone also was reminiscent of Latin.
They turned and ran as fast as Conny's
flapping- sole would take her. When they
had put three good blocks between them-
selves and the Latin woman, they dropped
down on a friendly stepping-stone, and
leaned against each other's shoulders and
laughed.
A man rounded the corner of the house
before them, pushing a mowing machine.
" Here, you ! " he ordered. " Move on."
They got up, meekly, and moved on sev-
eral blocks further. They were going in ex-
actly the opposite direction from St. Ursula's
school, but they could n't seem to hit on any-
thing else to do, so they kept on moving
mechanically. They had arrived in the out-
skirts of the village by now, and they pres-
ently found themselves face to face with a
325
Just Patty-
tall chimney and a group of low buildings
set in a wide enclosure — the water-works
and electric plant.
A light of hope dawned in Patty's eyes.
" I '11 tell you ! We '11 go and ask Mr,
Gilroy to take us home in his automobile."
" Do you know him? " Conny asked dubi-
ously. She had received so many affronts
that she was growing timid.
* Ye?.! I know him intimately. He was
under foot every minute during the Christ-
mas vacation We had a snow fight one
day. Come on ! He '11 love to run us out.
It will give him an excuse to make up with
Jelly."
They passed up a narrow tarred walk
toward the brick building labeled " Office."
Four clerks and a typewriter girl in the outer
office interrupted their work to laugh as the
two apparitions appeared in the door. The
younp1 man nearest them whirled his chair
around in order tr get a better view.
"Hello, girls!" he said with cheerful
familiarity. " Where 'd you spring from? "
The typewriter, meanwhile, was making
$26
The Gypsy Trail
audible comments upon the discrepancies in
Patty's hosiery.
Patty's face flushed darkly under the
coffee.
" We have called to see Mr. Gilroy," she
said with dignity.
"This is Mr. Gilroy's busy day," the
young man grinned. " Would n't you rather
talk to me?"
Patty drew herself up haughtily.
" Please tell Mr. Gilroy — at once —
that we are waiting to speak to him."
" Certainly ! I beg your pardon." The
young man sprang to his feet with an air of
elaborate politeness. " Will you kindly give
me your cards? "
" I don't happen to have a card with ma
to-day. Just say that two ladies wish tq
speak with him."
" Ah, yes. One moment, please — Won't
you be seated? "
He offered his own chair to Patty, and
bringing forward another, presented it to
Conny with a Chesterfieldian bow. The
clerks tittered delightedly at this bit of
327
Just Patty
comedy acting, but the Gypsies did not con-
descend to think it funny. They accepted
the chairs with a frigid, " Thank you," and
sat stiffly upright staring at the wastebasket
in their most distant society manner. While
the deferential young man was conveying the
message to the private office of his chief,
public oomment advanced from Patty's stock-
ings to Conny's shoes. He returned pres-
ently, and with unruffled politeness invited
them please to step this way. He ushered
them in with a bow.
Mr. Gilroy was writing, and it was a
second before he glanced up. His eyes wid-
ened with astonishment — the clerk had de-
livered the message verbatim. He leaned
back in his chair and studied the ladies from
head to foot, then emitted a curt:
"Well?"
There was not a trace of recognition in his
glance.
Patty's only intention had been to an*
nounce their identity, and invite him to de-
liver them at St. Ursula's door, but Patty
was incapable of approaching any matter by
328
The Gypsy Trail
the direct route when a labyrinth was also
available. She drew a deep breath, and to
Conny's consternation, plunged into the laby-
rinth.
"You Mr. Laurence K. Gilroy?" she
dropped a curtsy. " I come find-a you."
" So I see," said Mr. Laurence K. Gilroy,
dryly. " And now that you Ve found me,
what do you want? "
" I want tell-a your fortune," Patty glibly
dropped into the lingo she and Conny had
practised on the school the night before.
" You cross-a my hand with silver — I tell-a
your fortune."
This was no situation of Conny's choosing,
but she was always staunchly game.
" Nice-a fortune," she backed Patty up.
tc Tall young lady. VerJ beautiful."
"Well, of all the nerve!"
Mr. Gilroy leaned back in his chair and
regarded them severely, but with a gleam of
amusement flickering through.
"Where did you get my name?" he de-
manded.
'Patty waved her hand airly toward the
329
Just Patty
open window and the distant horizon — as
it showed between the coal sheds and the
dynamo building.
" Gypsy peoples, dey learn sings," she ex-
plained lucidly. " Sky, wind, clouds — all
talk — but you no understand. I get mes-
sage for you — Mr. Laurence K. Gilroy —
and we come from long-a way off to tell-a
your fortune." With a pathetic little ges-
ture, she indicated their damaged foot gear.
" Ver' tired. We travel far."
Mr. Gilroy put his hand in his pocket and
produced two silver half dollars.
"Here's your money. Now be honest!
What sort of a bunco game is this? And
where in thunder did you get my name ? "
They pocketed the money, dropped two
more curtsies, and evaded inconvenient ques-
tions.
" We tell-a your fortune," said Conny,
with business-like directness. She brought
out the pack of cards, plumped herself cross-
legged on the floor, and dealt them out in a
wide circle. Patty seized the gentleman's
hand in her two coffee-stained little paws, and
330
Patty seized the gentleman's hand
The Gypsy Trail
turned it palm up for inspection. He made
an embarrassed effort to draw away, but she
clung with the tenacious grip of a monkey.
"I see a lady!" she announced with
promptitude.
'* Tall young lady — brown eyes, yellow
hair, ver' beautiful," Conny echoed from the
floor, as she leaned forward and intently
studied the queen of hearts.
" But she make-a you lot of trouble,"
Patty added, frowning over a blister on his
hand. " I see liT quarrel."
Mr. Gilroy's eyes narrowed. In spite of
himself, he commenced to be interested.
" You like-a her very much," pronounced
Conny from below.
" But you never see her any more,"
chimed in Patty. " One — two — three —
four months, you no see her, no spik with
her." She looked up into his startled eyes.
" But you think about her every day! "
He made a quick movement of with-
drawal, and Patty hastily added a further
detail.
" Dat tall young lady, she ver' unhappy
3JI
Just Patty
too. She no laugh no more like she
used."
He arrested the movement and waited
with a touch of anxious curiosity to hear
what was coming next.
" She feel ver' bad — ver1 cross, ver' un-
happy. She thinks always 'bout that liT
quarrel. Four months she sit and wait —
but you never come back."
Mr. Gilroy rose abruptly and strode to the
window.
His unexpected visitors had dropped from
the sky at the psychological moment. For
two straight hours that afternoon he had
been sitting at his desk grappling with the
problem, which they, in their broken English,
were so ably handling. Should he swallow
a great deal of pride, and make another plea
for justice? St. Ursula's vacation was at
hand; in a few days more she would be gone
— and very possibly she would never come
back. The world at large was full of men,
and Miss Jellings had a taking way.
Conny continued serenely to study her
cards.
332
The Gypsy Trail
"One — More — Chance!" She spoke
with the authority of a Grecian sibyl. * You
try again, you win. No try, you lose."
[Patty leaned over Conny's shoulder, eager
to supply a salutary bit of advice.
" Dat tall young lady too much — " she
hesitated a moment for fitting expression —
" too much head in air. Too bossy. You
make-a her mind? Understand? "
Conny, gazing at the round-faced, chubby
Jack of Diamonds, had received a new
idea.
" I see 'nother man," she murmured.
" Red hair and — and — fat. Not too
good-looking but — "
" Fery dangerous!" interpolated Patty.
" You have no time to waste. He comes
soon."
Now, they had fabricated this detail out
of nothing in the world but pure fancy and
the Jack of Diamonds, but as it happened,
they had touched an open wound. It was
an exact description of a certain rich young
man in the neighboring city, who loaded
Miss Jellings with favors, and whom Mr.
333
Just Patty
Gilroy detested from the bottom of his soul.
All that afternoon, mixed in with his prompt-
ings and hesitations and travail of spirit, had
loomed large, the fair, plump features of his
fancied rival. Mr. Gilroy was a common-
sense young business man, as free as most
from superstition ; but when a man 's in love
he is open to omens.
He stared fixedly about the familiar office
and out at the coal sheds and dynamo, to
make sure that he was still on solid earth.
His gaze came back to his visitors from the
sky in absolute, anxious, pleading bewilder-
ment.
They were studying the cards again in a
frowning endeavor to wrest a few further
items from their overtaxed imaginations.
Patty felt that she had already given him fifty
cents' worth, and was wondering how to bring
the interview to a graceful end. She realized
that they had carried the farce too imperti-
nently far, ever to be able to announce their
identity and suggest a ride home. The only
course now, was to preserve their incognito,
make good their escape, and get back as best
334
The Gypsy Trail
they could — at least they had a dollar to
aid in the journey!
She glanced up, mentally framing a pero-
ration.
" I see good-a fortune," she commenced,
"if—"
Her glance passed him to the open win-
dow, and her heart missed a beat. Mrs.
Trent and Miss Sarah Trent, come to com-
plain about the new electric lights, were
serenely descending from their carriage, not
twenty feet away.
Patty's hand clutched Conny's shoulder in
a spasmodic grasp.
" Sallie and the Dowager ! " she hissed in
her ear. " Follow me! "
With a sweep of her hand, Patty scram-
bled the cards together and rose. There
would be no chance to escape by the door;
the Dowager's voice was already audible in
the outer office.
"Goo' by!" said Patty, springing to the
window. " Gypsies call. We must go."
She scrambled over the sill and dropped
eight feet to the ground. Conny followed.
335
*
Just Patty
They were both able pupils of Miss Jel«
lings.
Mr. Laurence K. Gilroy, open-mouthed,
stood staring at the spot where they had
been. The next instant, he was bowing
courteously to the principals of St. Ursula's,
and striving hard to concentrate a dazed
mind upon the short-circuit in the West
Wing.
Patty and Conny left the car — and a
number of interested passengers — at the
corner before they reached the school. Cir-
cumnavigating the wall, until they were op*
posite the stables, they approached the house
modestly by the back way. They had the
good fortune to encounter no one more dan-
gerous than the cook (who gave them some
gingerbread) and they ultimately reached
their home in Paradise Alley none the worse
for the adventure — and ninety cents to the
good.
When the long, light evenings came, St.
Ursula's no longer filled in the interim be-
tween dinner and evening study with indoor
336
The Gypsy Trail
dancing, but romped about on the lawn out-
side. To-night, being Saturday, there was
no evening study to call them in, and every-
body was abroad. The school year was al-
most over, the long vacation was at hand —
the girls were as full of bubbling spirits as
sixty-four young lambs. Games of blind-
man's-buff, and pussy-wants-a-corner, and
cross-tag were all in progress at once. A
band of singers on the gymnasium steps was
drowning out a smaller band on the porte-
cochere; half-a-dozen hoop-rollers were trot-
ting around the oval, and scattered groups
of strollers, meeting in the narrow paths,
were hailing each other with cheerful calls.
Patty and Conny and Priscilla, washed
and dressed and chastened, were wandering
arm in arm through the summer twilight,
talking — a trifle soberly — of the long-
looked-forward-to future that was now so
oppressively close upon them.
" You know," Patty spoke with a sort of
frightened gulp — " in another week we '11
be grown-up! "
They stopped and silently looked back
337
Just Patty
toward the gay crowd romping on the lawn,
toward the big brooding house, that through
four tempestuous, hilarious, care-free years
had sheltered them so kindly. Grown-up-
ness seemed a barren state. They longed to
stretch out their hands and clutch the child-
hood that they had squandered with so little
thought.
"Oh, it's horrible!" Conny breathed
with sudden fierceness. "I want to stay
young! "
In this unsocial mood, they refused an
offered game of hare-and-hounds, and evad-
ing the singers on the gymnasium steps —
the song was the " Gypsy Trail " — they
sauntered on down the pergola to the lane,
sprinkled with fallen apple blossoms. At
the end of the lane, they came suddenly upon
two other solitary strollers, and stopped
short with a gasp of unbelieving wonder.
" It 's Jelly ! " Conny whispered.
" And Mr. Gilroy," Patty echoed.
" Shall we run? " asked Conny, in a panic.
" No," said Patty, " pretend not to notice
him."
33.8
The Gypsy Trail
The three advanced with eyes discreetly
bent upon the ground, but Miss Jellings
greeted them gaily as she passed. There
was an intangible, excited, happy thrill about
her manner — something electric, Patty
said.
" Hello, you bad little Gypsies 1 "
It was a peculiarly infelicitous salutation,
but she was smilingly unconscious of any slip.
"Gypsies?"
Mr. Gilroy repeated the word, and his
benumbed faculties began to work. He
stopped and scanned the trio closely. They
were clothed in dainty muslin, three as sweet
young girls as one would ever meet. But
Patty and Conny, even in the failing light,
were still noticeably brunette — it takes boil-
ing water to get out coffee stain.
"Oh!"
He drew a deep breath of enlightenment,
while many emotions struggled for suprem-
acy in his face. Conny dropped her gaze
embarassedly to the ground; Patty threw
back her head and faced him. He and she
eyed each other for a silent instant. In that
v< 339
Just Patty
glance, each asked the other not to tell —
and each mutely promised.
The breeze brought the chorus of the
"Gypsy Trail"; and as they sauntered on,
Miss Jellings fell softly to humming the
words in tune with the distant singers:
" And the Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood
Ever the wide world over.
Ever the wide world over, lass,
Ever the trail held true
Over the world and under the world
And back at the last to you.
Follow the Romany patteran — -"
The words died away in the shadows.
Conny and Patty and Priscilla stood hand
in hand and looked after them.
"The school has lost Jelly! " Patty said,
" and I 'm afraid that we 're to blame,
Con."
" I 'm glad of it! " Conny spoke with feel-
ing. " She *s much too nice to spend her
whole life telling Irene McCullough to
stand up straight and keep her stomach
in."
340
The Gypsy Trail
" Anyway," Patty added, " he has no
right to be angry, because — without us — •
he never would have dared."
They kept on across the meadow till they
came to the pasture bars, where they leaned
in a row with their heads tipped back, scan-
ning the darkening sky. Miss Jellings's
mood was somehow catching; the little con-
tretemps had stirred them strangely. They
felt the thrill of the untried future, with Ro-
mance waiting around the corner.
" You know," Conny broke silence after a
long pause — " I think, after all, maybe it
will be sort of interesting."
"What?" asked Priscilla.
She stretched out her arm in a wide ges-
ture that comprised the night.
"Oh, everything!"
Priscilla nodded understandingly, and pres-
ently added with an air of challenge :
" I Ve changed my mind. I don't believe
I'll go to college." '
" Not go to college ! " Patty echoed
blankly. "Why not?"
341
Just Patty
" I think — I '11 get married instead."
"Oh!" Patty laughed softly. "/ am
Yoing to do both ! "
THE END
JACK LONDON'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list
JOHN BARLEYCORN. Illustrated by H. T. Dunn.
This remarkable book is a record of the author's own amazing
experiences. This big, brawny world rover, who has been ac-
quainted with alcohol from boyhood, comes out boldly against John
Barleycorn. It is a string of exciting adventures, yet it forcefully
conveys an unforgetable idea and makes a typical Jack London book.
THE VALLEY OF THE MOON. Frontispiece by George Harper.
The story opens in the city slums where Billy Roberts, teamster
and ex-prize fighter, and Saxon Brown, laundry worker, meet and
love and marry. They tramp from one end of California to the
other, and in the Valley of the Moon find the farm paradise that is
to be their salvation.
BURNING DAYLIGHT. Four illustrations.
The story of an adventurer who went to Alaska and laid the
foundations of his fortune before the gold hunters arrived. Bringing
his fortunes to the States he is cheated out of it by a crowd of money
kings, and recovers it only at the muzzle of his gun. He then starts
out as$a merciless exploiter on his own account. Finally he takes to
drinking and becomes a picture of degeneration. About this time
he falls in love with his stenographer and wins her heart but not
her hand and then— but read the story!
A SON OF THE SUN. Illustrated by A. O. Fischer and C.W. Ashley.
David Grief was once a light-haired, blue-eyed youth who came
from England to the South Seas in search of adventure. Tanned
like a native and as lithe as a tiger, he became a real son of the sun.
The life appealed to him and he remained and became very wealthy.
THE CALL OF THE WILD. Illustrations by Philip R/Goodwin and
Charles Livingston Bull. Decorations by Charles E. Hooper.
A book of dog adventures as exciting as any man's exploits
could be. Here is excitement to stir the blood and here is pictur-
esque color to transport the reader to primitive scenes. ~
THE SEA WOLF. Illustrated by W. J. Aylward.
Told by a man whom Fate suddenly swings from his fastidious
life into the power of the brutal captain of a sealing schooner. A
novel of adventure warmed by a beautiful love episode that every
reader will hail with delight.
WHITE FANG. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull.
"White Fang" is part dog, part wolf and all brute, living in the
frozen north ; he gradually conies under the spell of man's com-
panionship, and surrenders all at the last in a fight with a bull dog.
Thereafter he is man's loving slave.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS', NEW YORK
ZANE GREY'S NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Srosset & Dunlap's list
THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS
Colored frontispiece by W. Herbert Dunton.
Most of the action of this story takes place near the turbulent
Mexican border of the present day. A New York society girl buys
a ranch which becomes the center of frontier warfare. Her loyal
cowboys defend her property from bandits, and her superintendent
rescues her when she is captured by them. A surprising elimas
brings the story to a delightful close.
DESERT GOLD
Illustrated by Douglas Duer.
Another fascinating story of the Mexican border. Two men,
lost in the desert, discover gold when, overcome by weakness, they
can go no farther. The rest of the story describes the recent uprising
along the border, and ends with the finding of the gold which the
two prospectors had willed to the girl who is the story's heroine,
RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
Illustrated by Douglas Duer.
A picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago when
Mormon authority ruled. In the persecution of Jane Withersteen, a
rich ranch owner, we are permitted to see the methods employed by
the invisible hand of the Mormon Church to break her will.
THE LAST OF THE PLAINSMEN
Illustrated with photograph reproductions.
This is the record of a trip which the author took with Buffalo
Jones, known as the preserver of the American bison, across the
Arizona desert and of a hunt in "that wonderful country of yellow
crags, deep canons and giant pines." It is a fascinating story.
THE HERITAGE OF THE DESERT
Jacket in color. Frontispiece.
This big human drama is played in the Painted Desert. A
lovely girl, who has been reared among Mormons, learns to love a
1 young New Englander. The Mormon religion, however, demands
that the girl shall become the second wife of one of the Mormons-
Well, that's the problem of this sensational, big selling story.
BETTY ZANE
Illustrated by Louis F. Grant.
This story tells of the bravery and heroism of Betty, the beauti-
ful young sister of old Colonel Zane, one of the bravest pioneers.
Life along the frontier, attacks by Indians, Betty's heroic defense
of the beleaguered garrison at Wheeling, the burning of the Fort,
and Betty's final race for lif e,make up this never-to-be-forgotten story.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
RETURN TO the circulation desk of any
University of California Library ^
or to the \7
NORTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
Bldg. 400, Richmond Field Station
University of California
Richmond, CA 94804-4698
ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS
2-month loans may be renewed by calling
(415) 642-6753
1-year loans may be recharged by bringing books
to NRLF
Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days
prior to due date
DUE AS STAMPED
BELOW
FEB
1 8 1991
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THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY